Virtus et Iudicium
by AnjaliMalfoy
Summary: Preview: "How does it feel Granger? How does it feel to be utterly powerless? Do you finally have an idea about what you do to me?" he whispered gently, slowly running his finger down her cheek, "That's exactly how you make me feel. Powerless."
1. Contemno

_Title: _Virtus et Iudicium

_Author:_ Anjali Malfoy

_Rating:_ T

_Disclaimer:_ I do not in any way, shape, or form own Harry Potter or its characters.

_A/N: Just so I don't get a bunch of questions, the title of the story is Latin for the phrase 'Strength and Decisions' but I felt the title sounded much cooler in Latin. Also, I know these chapters may seem relatively boring but I promise, once Chapter 2 comes around, the interactions between Draco and Hermione will get much more intense so stick with this!_

_As for the turnover time, I will have each new chapter posted within a week to a week and a half max. I am taking a hardcore physics class right now, so until the end of August the turnover time cannot be shorter. This story will be finished by the end of September as I will be returning to college and will not much time to devote to writing._

**Chapter I : Contemno**

_"Fervidus odium can tribuo voluntas quod voluntas ut an cassus vita." -- __Passionate hatred can give meaning and purpose to an empty life._

The Great Hall fell deathly silent as a piercing yell echoed throughout the hall. The lasting noise from that terrible scream hung suspended in the air, its lasting remnants hovering over the tables, coating the mass of students in despair and anxiety.

It was as though life had ceased to exist and all sense of time had fallen away. Half-eaten croissants and toast lay limply on china plates where they had fallen, cups of tea and juice lay empty, the liquid staining the white linen in a multitude of vivid colors.

The scream appeared to have come from the Gryffindor table itself. A small huddle had formed around the far end of the table. A hush had fallen around the Hall. Students were standing or hunching on the table hoping to get a glance of who was in the huddle of the students. It was as though the professors had rehearsed this – so quickly they mobilized. Professors Snape and McGonagall held back the throng of students while Professor Sprout and Madam Pomfrey quickly conjured up a stretcher, lifting the body up onto it, and levitating the body to the hospital.

As the body was removed, whispered of "_it's Lavender" _started spreading across the room. The efficiency of the professors was testament to the dark times that they had been cursed with and the frequency of such bad news. Though it was not uncommon for students to respond negatively to the endless stream of bad news that they were constantly bombarded with, it was only increasingly getting worse and no one in the castle was becoming accustomed to these situations. Each new episode resulted in twisting the knife of despair and fear and helplessness even deeper and deeper into their heart, even as they tried to pull it out, praying that it never could take away any hope of the light.

Hermione quickly spread open the Daily Prophet and what she saw nearly made her blood freeze. Lavender's parents, both Aurors of the Ministry of Magic, had been mercilessly tortured and hung from their house that had the Dark Mark hovering over like the symbol of death. Sighing, she rested her face in her hand, trying to push back the familiar feeling of despair and utter helplessness that she felt every _damn time_ she read such stories. The frequency at which they occurred, any person could become numb to these events but when the victim was a friend, a mere teenager, it humanized everything, and Hermione didn't think she could ever become accustomed to that. No, if anything, the sorrow and anger she felt only multiplied tenfold as she tried to keep at bay the feelings of uselessness and of giving in.

Their world had changed, as they knew it. In a world that was changing by leaps in bounds, in every waking second, only her friends were there. Her world. These were dark times. Not since the death of Harry's parents had Lord Voldemort seemed so threatening, so frightening, so close...so real. Lord Voldemort had grown stronger.

Death and despair were rampant. Unavoidable. Deaths were strewn across the Daily Prophet. Students ran out of the Great Hall in tears. Others broke down. And every time, Harry put all the burden on his shoulders, all the blame, tried to soak up as much sorrow as possible, causing his best friends and girlfriend to worry.

There was nothing they could do – officially that is. Only six months were separating them from becoming legitimate members of the Order. Until then, they could do nothing except keep their ears alert and eyes open for any signs of Dark wizard entering the once-impassive walls of Hogwarts.

The initial shock had worn off the student body. Some of the students were still staring into space as though unable to believe what had happened, others were reading the Daily Prophet and speaking to each other in hushed voice, no doubt about what had just happened, and several other students were quietly eating, obvious that they too were dwelling on what had happened.

A small nudge from Harry jolted her. Looking toward him, she smiled softly and shook her head, reassuring him that she was ok. Her heart dropped a little when she saw the expression in his eyes – inscrutable, indecipherable, brimming with anger and pain. Gently, she squeezed his forearm, a squeeze of reassurance and love. Ginny, now his girlfriend of a year, say next to him engrossed in the paper Hermione had been pouring over just a few moments ago. The anger was evident in both her eyes and posture.

A small chime from the clock reminded her she had a meeting with Professor McGonagall in a brief fifteen minutes, something that had escaped her mind in the mayhem that had just occurred. It was their usual meeting; Hermione had – not surprisingly- been designated Head Girl and as part of her weekly duties, one of them was to report to her every Monday morning at 10:15 am promptly.

As she neared the professor's office, she heard voices. Unsure of whether to wait to just enter in, Hermione slowed down but with a glance at her watch she realized she had a mere fifteen minutes before Potions started. Praying that her professor would excuse her for her rudeness, Hermione timidly pushed the door open a crack and peeked inside.

Professor McGonagall was - there was no other way to put it - a mess. Her bun was slowly coming undone, the black tendrils falling over her shoulders and down her back. The belongings on her desk were askew; her travel case perched on top, books and potions messily piled inside. Hermione realized with an unpleasant lurch in her stomach that her unkemptness must be related to the death of Lavender's parents. An Order meeting must have been arranged promptly. Draco Malfoy was standing in front of her desk, clearly miffed at her lack of her attention at his presence.

"Professor, you're making this harder than it needs to be. Why can't I just do the project by myself?" Hermione could hear the exasperation and anger though well-masked present in his voice, "You know very well I'm tied for top score in your class. I think I have beyond proven to you that --."

"This is not a matter of competency Mr. Malfoy," their professor said - it was clear her patience with him was wearing thin, "This project was designed to make you collaborate ideas and methods of working and presenting information with another person. It is about compromise. I thought a person of your intelligence would have seen this. " Draco flushed red and Hermione derisively snorted. "If this is finally all, then you may leave. As you can see I am extremely busy at this moment."

It took her a moment to register that Lavender had been Malfoy's partner. As part of their seventh year "training", Professor McGonagall – or more accurately a charmed hat- had assigned the class of Slytherin and Gryffindors into pairs. Each group was given a common Transfiguration spell to research, as much as they felt was necessary. In three weeks time, each group was to present their findings to the class. Hermione had been paired with Theodore Nott and she had been rather surprised; while Nott was not a pleasure to work with, he stuck to the work and kept his comments about her heritage to a bare minimum. Their project was going fairly smoothly and she was looked forward to just two weeks before this would be done.

Sensing that their conversation had terminated, Hermione stepped in, nimbly stepping over the knocked books from the professor's bookshelf.

"Professor," she said cautiously. Malfoy looked up, his lips curling upwards in a sneer; Hermione, never one to be intimidated, countered his look with a glare. "I'm sorry if I have come at a bad time Professor. Perhaps, we should move our meeting to another time?"

"Yes...yes Miss Granger, that would be good," as she hastily zipped up her case, "I think I have everything necessary," she muttered under her breath.

"So this is it Professor," Draco spoke up again, "I join another person's group but you haven't made it clear which one you think it would so called best for..." he trailed off as she hoisted her bag off the table and made for the door.

"Mister Malfoy, just what is it about my directions that you do not understand? Since you are clearly unable to grasp my instructions, you will just..." she looked around as though hoping the answer would appear on the walls. Then her eyes fell on Hermione and her eyes lit up, " just join Ms. Granger's group. You're partnered with Mister Nott, am I right," Hermione nodded dumbstruck. Her professor clearly overlooked the look of surprise and pure hate on her face, "Yes, yes, that will do. Mister Malfoy, you will just join their group. Let the Professor know; now if you will excuse me, I _really_ must be going."

"But Professor, he - he - he..."

"I, I , I what?" Draco mocked. "Have you lost all ability to form coherent sentences?" So rushed was she, Draco's disparaging comment went unheard.

" He just can't!" yelled Hermione, shooting Draco a nasty glare. Draco opened his mouth, clearly to argue against her decision but their professor beat them to it.

"I must say, the two of you are acting rather selfish and childish right now. Considering what happened this morning in the Great Hall, I thought you two would realize that more tragic events are happening in this world right now." A light blush colored Hermione's cheeks as she looked to the floor and even Malfoy had enough shame to look slightly abashed. "Though it clearly is too much to ask, be mature adults and deal with this," she snapped.

With that, she left leaving two very angry teenagers in her wake.

"Great Malfoy, couldn't you have kept your bloody mouth shut and just walked out after she said you needed to join another group?" Hermione burst out. She was shaking with anger.

"Don't you dare blame this fiasco on me. If you hadn't barged in this office when we were clearly talking, she would not have stuck me to a pathetic excuse for a witch. Besides, how in the hell do you know she said that to me?" Draco hissed, "Spying on me were you?"

"Oh please," Hermione rolled her eyes, "Don't flatter yourself. Unlike you, I had a legitimate reason for seeing Professor McGonagall."

"And what was this so-called legitimate reason? To suck up more?"

"No, me and Professor McGonagall do not have a relationship like you and Professor Snape. We needed to talk about the duties that you clearly were not worthy enough of getting," she hissed, " Now if you'll excuse me," her voice changing to one of saccharine sweetness, " I have seen enough pathetic today", before flouncing out of the room, slamming the door behind her, leaving a fuming Slytherin behind.

That insufferable, know-it-all Gryffindor chit. She had once again shoved the fact that she was Head Girl in his face. He had been rather surprised and understandably, rather slighted when he learned that he in fact had not been chosen as Head Boy. His surprise had turned to hate and fury when it came to his attention that it had in fact been none other than Golden Boy, Harry Potter who had been picked. After all, Draco was second only to Hermione in all classes, save for Potions where he was second to no one. "no thanks to Snape", as well, he always added. Needless to say, his father had been most displeased with him and Draco had received an earful though over as time passed his anger and frustration lessened, though there would always be a bruise to his ego that would never be alleviated. The only soothing piece of information was that the Mudblood was the Head Girl -- he was at least saved in part of having to deal with her outside of classes

She had left with the last word, dismissing him like a mere servant. She would be in for it next time.

. & .

Needless to say, neither Ron nor Harry were pleased about Hermione's new project arrangements. Of course, both of them threatened Malfoy with bodily harm if he tried anything, leading Hermione to say that she could handle him herself. The only thing that kept Ron from personally following McGonagall was that the duration of their project was two weeks or more exactly, fourteen days. In her own words, she had dealt with the "twit for seven years, so fourteen days would be a piece of cake."

She couldn't have been more wrong. Their first meeting had been an utter disaster.

"Malfoy, we are researching the _Causa Mortis. _I could not give a damn as to what you were previously researching," she yelled shooting Madam Pince an apologetic look. "Stop making me yell the library!"

"Don't blame me for your snide voice."

"I do not sound snide," Hermione said shrilly, coloring slightly as Draco's eyebrows raised before mumbling, "I don't."

" Just give me a break, Granger. "

"Break? You want a break? It's only been five minutes since we got here," she said incredulously, "What was that, what did you say?" Hermione snapped, turning to Nott, who had muttered something under his breath.

Unlike Hermione and Draco, Theodore was calmly sitting on the end of the table. His books and quills were neatly arranged on the table, but had not made any move to start working. Instead he was watching the heated exchange between the two who were sitting on his either side.

"Nott, you're the third person here," said Hermione turning in her chair to face him so fast he was surprised he didn't fall backwards from her sheer anger and force, " What do you think? What do you --"

"For someone supposedly one of the smartest person in this class, you're surprisingly dumbwitted," Draco snorted, "Do you really think he's going to take _your_ side?"

"Not everyone's as childish and prejudiced as you are Malfoy. Stop assuming things and maybe you'll realize other qualities besides selfish, prideful, and despicable exist."

"And you're a good example of what good --"

"So where were we Nott," Hermione sat turning away from Malfoy effectively cutting him off, "Yes, tell me your opinion."

_She had done it again,_ Malfoy fumed.

"Frankly, I could not care less both of the spells. I didn't want to do either of those spells in the first place. We should do the spell called --"

For once Hermione and Draco were silent, staring at Nott as though he had grown another head. Then Draco burst out laughing at the sheer stupidity of Nott's statement, making Hermione even more furious.

"Nott!" Hermione yelled looking scandalized kicking Draco under the table to shut him up, "I thought we had decided on a spell. What in Merlin's name --"

"No, _you_ decided on the spell, I merely --"

"That is not the bloody point you brainless fool," Hermione yelled pushing herself away from the table and standing up, "We're stuck with either ours or his. This is getting ridiculous. It's been 20 bloody minutes and nothing has even been accomplished! We have less than 3 weeks and this project requires complete dedication and ---"

"Ok, ok, Merlin, don't get your granny knickers in a twist, woman," Nott snapped, "Draco, look mate, as a Slytherin, I know I am supposed to take your side. But me and know-it-all Granger here have done a lot of the work. It'd be a waste of time to start another spell. "

"Has someone put an Imperius Curse on you Nott?" Draco snarled, "What in Merlin's name has gotten into --"

" I doubt you want to spend more time than necessary in her presence," he said cocking his head in Hermione's direction.

Draco's anger seemed to abate at that statement but his cheeks remained flushed and his breathing heavy. He looked like he'd love nothing more than to hex Nott and Hermione.

"How dare you even -," Hermione whispered angrily,

"You got your side Granger. For once in your life, can you have some form of class." Draco snapped his face wearing a sour look from losing.

"Oh, because the way you behave, walking around as though you own this castle, treating people as though you're better than them, is a perfect example of class. So silly, what was I thinking," Hermione retorted.

"Because the way I walk around," Draco mimicked. "Ow!"

Hermione had pushed her chair back, and unaware of the fact that it had hit a bookshelf behind them, causing the books to fall down on the floor, had stormed over to Draco side and punched his shoulder.

"I swear to God Malfoy, Merlin so help me, " Hermione hissed, " One more word out of your mouth and I will --"

"You'll what? Run to your Potty and Weasel to save your back?"

Malfoy's eyes were full of mirth, as though mocking her, testing her waters, baiting her to attack back. So angry was Hermione at this point that she forgot she wasn't supposed to yell. The next thing she knew, she was flat against the floor of the hallway, either boys on her side, their books, ink pots, and quills around them.

"Thanks a load Granger, look what you did to my book," Draco snarled, holding up an ink-soaked Potions book.

"Clearly enough of your brain cells were killed when you hit this floor that you can't even remember that you can _magically _remove it," she snapped wincing as she sat up, several books falling off her lap as she sat up.

"Since neither of you can clearly sort this out," Nott said loudly, while shoving his belongings haphazardly into his leather bag, the first signs of annoyance creeping up on his otherwise impassive face, " I have decided we will meet in two days, here same time. Draco, you work on the history of how it's been used, I'll look at the origin of it's name, and Granger, no just shut up," he snapped, seeing her mouth open in protest, "Just shut up. You can look up cases involving this spell and what the outcomes were. Till that time, goodbye."

With a sneer, Draco shoved Hermione roughly before following his housemate. Groaning, Hermione buried her head into her hands.

One Day down. Thirteen to go.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

_Please REVIEW! _

_Until next time,_

_Cheers, AM_


	2. Turbatus

_Title: _Virtus et Iudicium

___Author:_ Anjali Malfoy

_Rating:_ T

_Disclaimer:_ I do not in any way, shape, or form own Harry Potter or its characters.

_A/N:__ I would like to thank everyone who read/favorited/alerted this story and a **huge** thanks to those sweet individuals who took the time out to review the last chapter – that was very sweet and is the **best** gift any "author" can get. It meant a lot and definitely motivated me to write in all my spare moments this week, so please keep them coming and the updates will be be sooner!_

**Chapter II**: **Turbatus**

_"In alio pediculum, in te ricinum non vides" -- You see a louse on someone else, but not a tick on yourself. _

It'd been three days and the rain hadn't ceased. Hagrid's flowers lay awash, lying limp and lifeless in an endless trail of mud. The grass, over-watered, swam in a pool of muddy water.

Hermione lay in Ron's arms in front of the fire, the warmth of his arms around his shoulder and waist doing nothing to abate her uneasiness. She stared hard into the orange flames of the fire as though it held the solutions to her answers, until its sheer brightness and warmth caused her to blink.

She was troubled. About Malfoy. Specifically, about some of his comments earlier that evening.

"How's the project with Malfoy going," Ron asked, breaking the peaceful silence and startling Hermione.

"What? Malfoy? How it's going? It's fine," Hermione started but in a split second, regaining her composure, irritated with his constant questioning.

"Hey," he said softly pulling her face towards him as she turned away to face the fire, "What's wrong?"

"Everytime we see each other, you always ask about Malfoy," she said pulling out of his embrace and sitting up ,"it's starting to have an effect on this relationship. Malfoy's becoming a bigger deal than he needs to be. I know that he is the bane of our existence, and delights in hurting me but just look at him as any other Slytherin who we have to deal with. I'm a big girl and I can take care of myself. Hell, I faced Voldemort. Malfoy is nothing. I feel like there's a giant big gray cloud over our head with a big sign saying _MALFOY_ on it, that won't go away until this project is over, and it really doesn't have to be that way."

Ron looked contrite.

"Alright I won't bring him --"

"Do you mean that this time Ron. You always say you trust me and that you won't ask again --"

"I promise. Now smile."

Satisfied with her boyfriend's response, Hermione returned to his embrace. But she could not stop thinking about a certain Slytherin and some of his specific statements earlier that evening.

. & .

Tonight had been their second meeting. Nott had not been able to make it, and Madam Pince, after the disastrous first meeting, had banned them from using the library when working together. Going into the Slytherin dorms was not an option for Hermione. Draco was no less; the Gryffindor tower was also off limits. After several name-calling sessions, numerous threats on each other's lives, and Nott's sparse attempts to come up with compromises, the Head Tower had been chosen for the group project - much to Draco's disgust. As of now, the way he viewed this situation, it was: Hermione: 2, Draco: 0. He had not been happy at this.

He most _certainty_ was not happy right now.

"It's 10 o'clock Granger. We've been here for three godforsaken hours working on just _your_ portion of the project. What more could you possibly have to write?" he snarled.

"For Merlin's sake Granger," Malfoy snapped when he received no response. Using his quickness, he grabbed the parchment she was furiously writing on.

"This is ten scrolls long. Have you lost your mind Granger? The limit of the whole bloody report is supposed to be no longer than fiteen scrolls and you already took up ten with the Ministry Cases."

"I owl'ed Professor McGonagall, she said was ok. Now give me my damn parchment back you insufferable prat," she yelled clawing at the air.

"Damn your connections with McGonagall," smirking as he moved the parchment away from her outstretched fingers. "For once in your life, can you stop trying to be a prude and show everyone up? Does it give you some sense of power or achievement?"

"Well, some of us have to try and prove our worth," Hermione muttered, grabbing her report back and resuming her incessant scribbling, flushing at her admittance.

"Let me give you a rare piece of advice. Nothing will ever prove your worth. It's ingrained in your blood," Draco said matter-of-factly.

"What do I even bother with you Malfoy?" she spat, her cheeks reddening. What had she been thinking to say that? She was just asking for Malfoy to insult her mercilessly. "People like you can never change. People like you never will change."

"If by "people like me" you mean Purebloods, then yes, our society and ideologies will not change. After all, what is the point, why change something whether it be an idea, a custom, or a practice, if it serves ones needs?"

"I would have thought that your thinking, you would have progressed, come to terms with the changing world. The Wizarding World no longer is how it was when it was first created. Times have changed, people have changed, values have changed, and yet your family has not managed to go with the flow. Instead, you keep fighting, thinking that the status quo will revert. News flash Malfoy: It won't. You are part of a minority now, a group that is only going to keep getting smaller. You astonish me, your ideology of your family just remains so primitive."

"Size does not matter Granger," Draco retorted, his gray eyes shining with a determination she had never seen before, "Never assume size with power, with strength. That's _one_ mistake that had caused numerous superpowers to crumble to opponents lesser in number than they. Let me tell you one thing. _Never_ ever underestimate a person's desire to survive. _Never_ underestimate the power of rebellion, the power to resist change. _Never_ bow down to fear, to pressure. If you remain brave in the face of danger and refuse to bow down to a greater power than yourself, you have not lost. They do not and cannot have power over you if you do not bow down," he paused and smirked, his eyes shining condescendingly at her, "But I wouldn't expect you to understand."

Hermione froze at his words. She did understand. She completely understood. Not until now had she realized how powerful a wizard Draco actually was. Not until now had she realized how stubborn yet how determined and loyal he was. She had heard those words of encouragement, those slogans of allegiance, from Harry. Every time an Auror was slain, every time a supporter was tortured and left to die, every time their army was diminished while his grew larger, Harry had repeated those words.

_"Yes, Voldemort is a strong wizard. When I am unarmed, he has complete control of me - physically. He can control my body, my arms, legs, head. But that is all he can control - the tangible part of me. He cannot and never will control my mind, my heart...my soul. And that is not absolute control. Absolute control can happen only when Voldemort control my thoughts, my beliefs, and my spirit. He cannot crush those. Until then, all he has is a body, a mere mass of skin of blood, nothing more. My death alone is not enough for Voldemort. He wants me broken, emotionally, spiritually, and psychologically. He will not have won. I will not bow down to him. Even in death, my death, he will not have won. To the death, he will be defied. " _Yes, to her, the side Malfoy had chosen was despicable, a side devoted to torturing and killing those who to them were less worthy. Nonetheless, his loyalty and willingness to sacrifice his life for the greater good - no matter how misplaced it may be -- had to be admired.

"Granger, snap out of it," said Malfoy snapping his fingers in front of Hermione's face, looking slightly bewildered at the look of shock and confusion on her face.

"Sorry, I was thinking about something," she mumbled, turning red and then turning back to her manuscript.

"Strike a chord did I?" he asked smugly, a smirk crossing his face.

His look of pride was enough to send her blood boiling.

"Yes Malfoy. You did strike a chord," she retorted hotly. " You said you wouldn't expect me to understand just because I did not come from a Pureblood. Why does someone have to be from a Pureblood family to know what it's like to uphold a family name? Yes Malfoy, my parents are not part of this wizarding world, my parents are not wizards. But I have just a great responsibility as you do to hold up their name. Even if you do not grant that I have to hold up my family name, I have another name to hold up. I have a greater name to hold up, something bigger than me, bigger than you- the Muggleborn name. It's just like you said Malfoy. We are fewer in number than you are -- Muggleborns who become part of the wizarding world will never outgrow the number of Purebloods, but like you said, we will not give in to your sordid actions and beliefs. Thank you Malfoy, you just helped me remember why I remain as strong as I do. Because my refusal to bow down to people like you will never let you win."

Hermione was breathing heavily at the end of her tirade, her face flushed but her eyes glittering with a determination and strength, as though daring him to challenge her.

A look of shock crossed his face, mixed with a brief look of awe and respect, but in the blink of an eye it vanished, like drawings in the sand swept clean by the waves, making Hermione think it must have been an trick of her eye.

"Muggleborns don't have a name to hold up. That's why you work so hard isn't it? You admitted it yourself. You have nothing to hold, to maintain. You don't have a lasting legacy to hold, a set of standards and values already waiting for you that you must accept, that you must follow in order to keep your family name flying high. These are standards that define our every move, thought, action, and belief. We come from two very different sets of backgrounds, you and I. And in the order of this world, mine prevails. Purebloods are better than your creed, your blood."

"First, yes I did say that is why I work hard. But I have no choice. I did not say it was right that I have to work as hard as I do, but that's the point. I have to give my Muggleborn group a good name of it's own. I not only have to hold its reputation, I also have to create one. Now, give me a reason," she prodded, noting silently that he has subtly changed the topic to blood from that of the power struggle. Making a note in her mind to come back to this later, she continued, "Justify your belief. Tell me why your blood is better than mine. The way you talk about me and you is interesting, because you make us sound like different races. Oh by "races" I mean a different species," she added hastily, seeing the confused look cross his face, "But what you don't realize , Malfoy, is that there was no distinction until someone made this distinction up."

"There was a reason for making this distinction, Granger. A very distinct reason."

"What's that? What's the so-called fine reason for this distinction?"

"The distinction was made to serve as a reason. A reason for me to hold up my family name. A reason for me to say that the Malfoy surname is the one of the best names in the Wizarding World. But I wouldn't expect you to know anything about that."

"By reason, you mean _excuse_. This _excuse_ was created because _your_ Pureblood society felt threatened by _us_. Felt threatened that we would take over positions of authority, positions of power in society and the government. This _excuse_ was created to make yourself feel that in some way possible - whether it be capabilities or blood- that you remained better than us. When capabilities no longer could be used because we matched or bettered them, you turned to blood. The physical quality of ours that we can't change."

""My parents are wizards. Yours on the other hand are Muggles," Draco growled, "Your blood is different, does this --"

"Why?"

Draco was thrown off guard. "Why what?"

"Why and how is my blood different than yours?"

Draco could feel the heat rising up his neck, under Hermione's intense glare. He had to say something, before Hermione took his silence for defeat. Soon. Call it luck or fate, a loud knock at the door jolted both teenagers out of their heated argument. Hermione looked torn between answering the door or hearing Draco's answer to her question.

"Hermione," a familiar voice called, "Are you in there?"

Ron. Draco could not remember the last time he had been so happy to see Weasley. He almost fainted at the wave of relief that swept him as Hermione albeit disappointedly scrambled to her feet and headed for the door answering, "Coming Ron."

'What's he doing here?" Ron sneered, as he caught sight of Draco shoving his books and quills back into his bag.

"Don't worry Weasel, I wasn't enjoying the company of your Mudblood girlfriend," he snapped heaving his bag over his shoulder.

"Don't you dare call her that," Ron shouted, color rising to his cheeks, "Take it back right now!"

"Ron, it's fine. Stop," Hermione murmured, placing a reassuring hand on his arm.

"No, Hermione," Ron said, his gaze softening as he glanced at her, but hardening as looked back at Draco, "He has no right to keep saying such things to you and you have no reason to take them. Take those words back," Ron yelled, drawing his wand

Draco merely rolled his eyes. "Now now Weasley, we don't want a repeat of second year do we?" The sarcasm was evident.

"I would risk that for her again in the blink of an eye." The sincerity was so evident in his voice, that it took Hermione slightly aback and Draco utterly speechless.

"Oh just excuse me from your pathetic company," sneered Draco, regaining some composure and sweeping past the couple.

With that he slammed the door shut, leaving one tired and one angry Gryffindor behind him.

There had been something off about Malfoy. She could not place her finger on it. Not surprisingly, he had managed to be spiteful, prideful, and morally reprehensible. It wasn't just his unwavering loyalty to his side and his beliefs that her had confused; it was his change of subject that had thrown her off. One minute they were talking about power struggles, and the next minute he brought up how she had no name to uphold. Malfoy was not one for leaving a point, until it could no longer be argued about. He did not have something to throw back at her. Had he realized, just as she had, that in a twisted way, they had agreed on something?

And that look. The look on his face had thrown her off, albeit momentarily. For a split second, she thought she had broken through to him, knocked down that brick wall that he had built up for himself, or at least created a dent that could be chipped at until the other side was reached. It wasn't until she asked him why his blood was better than his that she saw some kind of vulnerability. A look of uncomfort, uncertainty, and doubt. He had not been able to answer; true, Ron had interrupted them a mere twenty seconds later but still. _He had not answered_. Malfoy had not given her _anything_ to her question. Not even a retort. The look on his face jarred her, it was unlike anything she had seen before, a complete contrast from his otherwise calm, collected, cool and confident manner.

She had hit a nerve. She had somehow managed to see a different side of Malfoy that she could not have dreamt even existed. Obnoxious, selfish, and despicable, she knew. Hermione wasn't one to be judgmental, but loyal, strong, and powerful, had to be the last words in her mind that she thought she would associate Malfoy with. But Hermione gave credit where it was due. This by no means, meant that Hermione was warming up to Malfoy. No, he still embodied those qualities she could not and would not allow herself to rationalize. Until then, he would always remain the same person she had hated since she had met him.

She still remembered. She remembered everything. She remembered the first time he had called her a Mudblood in front of Ron and Harry. A small smile crept over her face as she remembered Ron's attempt to defend her, inadvertently squeezing his arm affectionately. She could not really forget. The shame and the humiliation of having to explain to Hagrid and Harry exactly what that word meant, her disgust at blatant effect Malfoy's use of the word had on her, were feeling she could not and would not let go. That moment had only served as a reminder to be proud of who she was, giving her courage and pride in any accomplishment she achieved, knowing that it brought discomfort to people like Malfoy. He still got to her. It had been five years since that incident, but she still remembered it like it were yesterday. But he still got to her. His mere presence was enough to send to put her on edge, cause her blood to boil, and to feel anger she thought she had reserved specially for Voldemort. Until now she still could not put her finger on what it was exactly that bugged her so much. But she could not get one question out of her mind.

_Was he analyzing this evening as much as she was? _

. & .

The moment Draco exited the Head Tower earlier that night, he had promised himself that he would never think about anything Granger had said that night. He swore he would never allow his mind to revisit the question she had asked him, or acknowledge the feeling of relief he had felt at the Weasel's knock on the door, sparing him from answering Granger's question. What he had utterly misunderstood was that while he was awake, he could successfully block out all thoughts, but in his sleep, all he dreamt about was a certain Gryffindor.

He was not having a pleasant night. In fact, tonight was one of the worst nights of his entire life. He had been laying listlessly for over four hours, drifting in and out of sleep, Granger and their conversation earlier that evening coming to the forefront of his mind.

The events replayed over in his mind. Her look of disgust. How she argued with him, attacking his every point. How he goaded her, again and again, feeling an unnatural pride in the look of passion and hatred that only he could induce. And then her final blow - her challenge.

It was a challenge to which he had no answer to. She had wormed her way into his head. _"Why? " _her voice echoing, _"Why is your blood better than mine?_" His mind was blank, save for his usual retort that...it just was. _It just was_. Even to his own ears, it sounded downright pitiful.

_"Damn that infernal woman," _he screamed into his pillow before turning to lie uneasily on his stomach.

Damn Granger. Damn her persistence. Damn her tenacity. Damn her unwillingness to just ... _bloody. give. in._

_Damn Granger. _

He could not remember a time when he hated Granger more than he did now.

And yet, his mind kept drifting back to her question and how he just did not have a response - that is, any legitimate response. He had seen her blood split over the Potions class dungeon. It was red. The same shade of red as his. Had he not known it was Granger's, he had no way of telling if it came from a Mudblood.

_Was there any difference then?_

He had not been lying when he said that he had been "bestowed" with standards from the moment he was born. Standards of respect, perfection, and power. Ones that his mother and father made sure he followed. It wasn't just standards that he had instilled into his system, it was beliefs and ideologies - one that Granger had, _successfully, _he admitted begrudgingly, thrown into question.

If Granger was right, if there was no difference in their blood, then, it threw everything else he had learned into question.

_Shit. _

Fury like that which he had never felt before erupted. Annoying Granger, he hated. Insufferable-know-it-all Granger he could hate even more. Prim-and-Proper Granger he could hate even better. Little-Miss-Perfect Granger he could hate the best.

But loyal, determined, and powerful Granger he could not. Try as he might, he just could not.

He had seen the look of shock and disbelief that had crossed her face, when his rant about how he would never bow down to a power greater than him, because if he did not, he would not have lost. He had smugly thought her look had been from a stinging blow his words caused to her ego. What he had not thought was that her next couple lines would throw him off.

He had read between her lines. His ideology was a power that he wanted her to bow down to, to accept as correct and superior. But she would not give in, and even she died, still believing that he was wrong, he would not have won. She knew it. He knew it. Her sheer determination and strength was admirable. Wrong, yes, but still..admirable.

But who was she to...make him justify his reasons?

"Who was she", he realized as a feeling of dread settled into his stomach," to change me?"

Yes, Draco Malfoy could not remember a time when he hated Granger more than he did now.

The lack of sleep must have showed on his face, because Granger kept shooting him curious looks during Transfiguration class. Damn it. Because of her, he wasn't able to sleep at night. Now his focus was on the bushy Gryffindor five seats down from him, instead of the textbook in front of him. Avoiding her gaze, he kept his gray eyes on the words in front of him, though they all blended together live a river in front of his eyes.

Malfoy had not slept much. If the dark circles under his eyes weren't a dead give away, his posture was tense and rigid, very unlike his elegant and casual stance. She could tell. Had he too, been thinking about last evening? As silly as it sounded to her ears, maybe even Malfoy had noticed the similarity between them. Her gaze must have lingered on Malfoy a second too long, because Ron nudged her side, raising an eyebrow as if to ask _"Is everything OK?" _With a quick nod and a characteristic smile, Hermione went back to staring at the words in front of her, all of which were running together and swimming in front of her eyes, like water down a stream.

The pair avoided each other for the next three days. It got so obvious that even Harry and Ron began questioning Draco's lack of hostility when they passed each other in the hall, a testament to how volatile their relationship was.

"Hermione, you sure something didn't happen," Harry whispered to Hermione as Draco passed them in the dining hall without a mere glance at them, let alone a comment.

"What do you mean, did something happen," Hermione asked, suddenly becoming very interested in a loose strand of thread on her stocking.

"I dunno," Ron chimed in, his brows furrowing in confusion, "I mean, look at him," he said gesturing towards the Slytherin table where Draco sat, " he clearly saw us on the way to his seat. When was the last time we didn't get into a fight?"

"Maybe he has something on his mind right now," Hermione said irritably.

"That would make sense, but this has been happening for three days."

"Yeah, he hasn't even tried anything funny in Potions. C'mon, Potions for Merlin's sake. It's the one class where he doesn't even have to worry about getting into trouble."

"Are you missing the fights or something?" Hermione questioned, on the verge of snapping at them. "I thought it would be a bit of relief."

"Woah woah, we're not saying we liked our fights," said Harry defensively holding his hands out in front of him, "We were commenting on the situation."

"Though the fight where he turned into a ferret was rather memorable," said Ron dreamily, "Oh come on Hermione," he said at her disapproving look as Harry sniggered.

"Oh Ron, remember the time when Malfoy..."

Hermione had drifted out of their conversation at this point and gone to intently studying Malfoy. He was rather good at putting on a facade around Slytherins, she admitted reluctantly. She hadn't admitted it to Ron and Harry but she also had noticed how he had been avoiding them. He hadn't made a singly derogatory remark to her, let alone acknowledge her presence. It was as though they were invisible to him. At first it had been a relief, but his change in behavior was beginning to irk her. She wasn't sure if it was in some twisted way his lack of attention or the fact that she had spent every waking minute dwelling on her behavior. She did know one thing: she would know tonight when they worked on their project.

. & .

Theodore Nott was getting a lot of work done this evening on his part of the project.

He should have been pleased and rather relieved, not just for the sake of his grade, but also for his mental sanity and his eardrums. He also should not have been this intrigued by the going-ons between this pair but merely dismissed his curiosity it to the fact that it was an unprecedented event when they were not at each other's throats.

While he found the silence, albeit tense, a refreshing change....it was rather confusing and slightly awkward.

The tension in that room could be cut with a knife. Nott had felt it the moment he had entered the room ten minutes late. Draco had been sitting at the table in front of the window, idly twiddling his fingers, while Hermione had been sitting on a cushion on the fireplace nervously swinging her legs. It was obvious they had been avoiding each other.

As if it hadn't been obvious enough, Hermione had let out enough air to fill a couple Quidditch balls before beginning to babble excitedly, something she had never done in the presence of a Slytherin. A look of relief had crossed Draco's face though as it often was with him, it passed so fast it could have been a mere trick of the eye.

And it was quiet. Not the sort of quiet that happens when people are arguing heatedly and they quiet down just before you enter to cover it. Nott never had understood why that happened, it was obvious either way. But they hadn't been talking, let alone arguing.

Hermione knew Nott could sense that something unspoken was happening between her and Malfoy. It had been like this since 8 p.m. since Malfoy had laid foot in the Common Room.

He had been a gentleman all evening. Short and brief, only speaking to her about the project when it was absolutely necessary. Part of her was screaming at her to ask Malfoy what exactly was wrong. But she knew she had to wait until Nott had left the room. Even then, at 10 past 10 when Nott finally exited, Malfoy merely sat there scribbling on his parchment. Hermione was irritated at herself for even wondering why Malfoy was acting so differently. Hell, she should be thanking that he was not picking on her. But, for some reason, she couldn't help feeling that something wasn't right.

"Dammit Malfoy," Hermione burst out unable to contain her curiosity anymore after ten minutes, "What is going on?"

"I really have no idea what you're talking about Granger," he said coolly, his eyes not leaving his parchment.

"Don't play that innocent game with me" she snapped throwing her quill down and standing up. "You know exactly what I am talking about."

"Do I now?" he replied. Glancing at his watch, he meticulously rolled up his parchment and placed it inside his bag before standing up and heaving it onto his shoulder.

"The last three days you haven't harassed me, Ron, or Harry," she pressed, "Did you really expect us not to notice? Hell, even those two noticed."

"Has it occurred to you three that my life might revolve around other things not just you?" he snapped, the first signs of his previous self coming to the front.

In reality he was just angry that they had noticed. But even Harry and Ron would have noticed if he had stopped harassing them; even they weren't that daft. It wasn't that he was scared of facing Granger. He just hadn't wanted to deal with her after what had happened three days ago. As cool and collected as he appeared on the outside, he was still confused on the inside. And pretending that three days ago didn't happen would be the perfect way to get over this confusion. But dammit, this girl was not making it easy for him.

"Dammit Malfoy" she snapped, following Draco closely as he walked to the door, "Stop dancing around my questions. You are not leaving here until you have answered my questions," turning Draco around roughly by the shoulder of his robes.

"Get your damn Mudblood hands off me," he snarled, wrenching his robes from her grasp.

That stung. It had been years since Malfoy's use of that word had caused her anything but anger and hatred. In fact, the only time she had cried was that day Ron had defended her honor. She had made the mistake of assuming that people with beliefs like Malfoy no longer existed; that was why it had stung so much. But she had let her guard down again. To her utter dismay and anger, she turned her shoulder slightly to the right to hide the tears she was blinking back furiously.

How long they stood there in the uncomfortable silence she didn't know. It seemed way too long but thankfully long enough that her tears were no longer visible. Not soon after, her hurt became quickly replaced with anger. Not anger directed at him - at herself. How could she have thought she had mad some indent into his moral character? What was she thinking to have believed that a small part of him had been affected by what she had said?

"Look Granger," Malfoy said gruffly, breaking the awkward silence, " I uh, I didn't mean that."

Hermione thought she was going to fall over from the sheer shock that nearly paralyzed her. Had she entered some kind of parallel universe?

"It's ok?" she said, her statement sounding more like a question mark. Malfoy had a sour look on his face and it was clear he was still internally struggling as to whether he should have done that.

Sure, Malfoy's statement wasn't quite an apology, but it was close as it would ever get.

Especially from him. It was a start.

"I'll see you next Monday then," he said moving past her to the portrait.

"What's gotten into you Malfoy," she asked curiously.

Judging by Draco's angry stare, that was the wrong thing to say, though Hermione could not fathom why.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he hissed moving back into the room until he stood a few paces away from Hermione. "Weren't you the one who said that other positive qualities might exist? Oh I forgot, clearly other people who don't have the name _Draco Malfoy_ are entitled to posses those qualities."

"Well what else do you expect me to think?" she retorted hotly, "I mean, seven years and at every possible opportunity you had, you would make fun of me. And you expect me to not question you? That's just rich."

"Well that's just typical of you Gryffindors. Treating assumptions and stereotypes as damning evidence, " he snarled shoving roughly past her and slamming the door behind him.

If she thought she could not be more perplexed than she was three days ago, she was wrong. She was more confused than ever.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

_Please REVIEW! _

_Until next time,_

_Cheers, AM_


	3. Verecundia

_Title: _Virtus et Iudicium

_Author:_ Anjali Malfoy

_Rating:_ T

_Disclaimer:_ I do not in any way, shape, or form own Harry Potter or its characters.

**Chapter III: ****Verecundia**

_"Preconceived animadverto es crines in ianua ut sapientia" -- __Preconceived notions are the locks on the door to wisdom. _

It was a very perturbed Hermione that woke up the next morning. Glancing at her clock, she groaned and buried her head in her hands. She had twenty minutes to get to class and if the growling in her stomach was any indication, she was extremely hungry.

"Oh," she exclaimed in surprise, clapping a hand over her heart as she stepped out of her room, "Ron! You scared me."

"Sorry," he said cheekily bounding off the couch from which he had been lazing about before, kissing her on the cheek and rubbing her back.

"Mmm, good morning," she murmured, smiling as Ron kissed her.

"What are you doing here? Transfiguration starts in ten minutes."

"I wanted to be here when you woke up. Harry tried to wake you. He figured you were up after your rounds from eleven to twelve last night when you didn't answer the first couple times. He thought it best to let you sleep."

Ron laughed as a loud rumbling from Hermione's stomach gave away, cutting off her comment.

"Oh hush," muttered Hermione, blushing. "It's just another two hours."

"Nuh-uh," said Ron backing away, "Not if I can help it."

Hermione eyed him warily, a small smile playing on the ends of her lip.

"Ta-da," he announced, pulling out a wrapped napkin behind his back with a flourish. "Miss Hermione Granger," he said in a mock-royal voice bowing down in front of her, "I am pleased to present you with" as he removed the napkin, "a raspberry scone with a light layer of butter!"

Hermione merely kissed him another time but the look in her eyes was more than enough for him.

"Thank you," she said softly, leaning in to hold him for a few more moments. Out of the chaos she had been feeling the last couple days, it felt nice just to hold him. It gave her a sense of peace and belonging.

"How did you know this was my favorite breakfast," she asked drawing back and taking a huge bite out of the scone. Mmmm, that hit the spot.

"What kind of a friend would I be if I didn't notice what your favorite breakfast was after seven years. And what kind of a boyfriend would I be if I let you starve," he smiled, winking down at her.

Hermione could barely respond, her mouth so full with scone.

"And you say me and Harry eat like pigs," he chortled, picking up their bags and leading the way to Transfiguration. He laughed as all Hermione could do was send him a dirty look.

. & .

Hermione shrieked as Ron's spell hit the edge of the cage, causing the edge of the metal to glow red and then melt into a smoldering pile of silver goo on the table. Ron sent her a weak look intended to say he was sorry as she sent him a withering look.

"No matter Miss Granger," their substitute professor squeaked toddling past their table, "Just get a new cage dear. We can't have the animals un-contained now can we?"

Ron was cradling the small minx in his arms.

"Alright Ron," she laughed, "I'll get the cage."

"Oh!" she exclaimed in surprise as she shut the door behind her and realized she wasn't the only one in the storeroom.

"Granger," Malfoy said curtly and coldly before turning back to perusing the shelves.

"Malfoy," she muttered before walking to the opposite side of the room to where the cages were neatly stacked by size and material.

Something was wrong with Malfoy. Something was amiss. It was apparent in the way he walked and talked. He was silent. Moody. Tense. Every facial muscle pulsed with anxiety, terse with suppressed emotion. She snuck a few glances in his direction when he wasn't looking.

And then she saw it. Covered with a masking charm, cleverly hidden under numerous concealment spells, so faint that it would appear as though the mark was a mere scratch from carelessness, but there was no mistaking the distinctive outline.

The outline of the Dark Mark was boldly etched in his left forearm from where the sleeve of his robe had carelessly fallen down.

Fury and fear like she had never felt before erupted.

"Malfoy," she said shaking with rage, every syllable pulsing with fury. "Malfoy," she repeated when he didn't answer.

"What do you want, Granger?" he said exasperatedly, still digging through the shelves. When she didn't respond, he turned around only to meet her stunned and furious gaze staring somewhere other than him. Confused, he followed her gaze….then that he realized exactly at what she was staring at. Fear, panic, the full spectrum of emotions rushed through him, paralyzing him with their sheer strength unable to move or say anything, every part of his body frozen at his mind registered just what had happened.

Her small step towards him shocked him into action. Hastily he shoved the sleeve over his arm but it was too late. The damage had been done.

"You...you," she stuttered. "How..when..."

In three swift steps Malfoy had crossed the room and shoved her so roughly against the shelf that she knew she would have bruises tomorrow, the sheer force from his strength and the magic culminating together, rocking the shelves against the wall, knocking off supplies, where they fell pell-mell to the floor. If the shelves had not been magically attached to the wall, there was no doubt in her mind that they would made dents in the wall or smashed through the wall itself, so strong was the anger and fear radiating off him.

"No on hears about this, " he hissed, through clenched teeth, his face ashen. "If _anyone_ hears about this, I assure you that you will not like the consequences."

"Did you hear me?" he yelled, shaking her until her teeth chattered when she remained silent, simply staring at him. The look on her face was doing nothing to abate his fear.

"Get off of me Malfoy," she yelled finally, as though his shaking as somehow jolted her to attention, trying to shrug his hands off, but he only tightened his grip.

"Not until you promise you won't tell anyone what you just saw," he said, his voice lowering dangerously.

"What will you do if I don't?" she spat squaring her shoulders as much as her body would allow her to in his iron grip. "Kill me right here and now like you will have to do as a Death Eater? _I dare yo_u."

Malfoy was shaking with fury. He had no answer. He could sense all power slipping away, like sand falling through a tightly clenched fist. Trembling, he abruptly released her shoulders and staggered back until he hit the opposite shelf.

"You can't kill me Malfoy. You're not like the rest of them, " she said, her voice quivering, so bent on trying to change his mind that her askew and slightly ripped robes escaped her notice.

"Shove off Granger, what do you know about me?" he spat viciously turning his back to her shaking.

"Not that much," she said defiantly, "But I do know enough to know that you're not like them."

"You don't understand," he yelled slamming his fist into the shelves behind him causing Hermione to jump, " I have to do this. Because" he paused and took a deep breath, "Because it's my destiny."

The look in his broke her heart. She didn't know what to do, what to say, what to feel. She'd only seen anger and hate in those eyes, eyes she had come to abhor. Emotions she had come to loath.

But the look he had in his eyes right now paralyzed her. It scared her beyond any comprehension because up until now, she hadn't been forced to face a side of him that was....human. A side of him she had denied had existed. It was only then she realized the rims of his eyes were brimming with tears. Tears that were threatening to fall, tears that she could tell he was trying to hold back.

She wasn't looking into the eyes of a cold-blooded murderer. No, she was looking into the eyes of an ordinary seventeen year old boy, into the eyes haunted by his past, his duty, his future.

"Predetermined sides are in no one's destiny," she said softly, "There is always a choice."

"A choice, you think _I_ had a choice," Draco scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief, before laughing sardonically, the sound echoing off the walls, "That's rich. You think _I _had a choice? Granger, you think any of us Slytherins had a choice. Any chance of our getting a _chance_ died the moment we were sorted into that House."

"What does Slytherin have anything to do with this?"

"It has _everything_ to do with this Granger. Everything. That one word 'Slytherin' had enough power to decide our past, present, and future."

The looks in his eyes had changed. No longer were they glistening with horror and fear. They were full of accusation. Accusation directed towards her, she realized with a jolt. Accusation for what?

"I still don't understand --"

"Of course you wouldn't. Why would you? You shunned us. All of you, Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs alike. All of the professors here, the _one_ group of people were supposed to remain unbiased and impartial shunned us, all except one. Snape. Have you _ever_ once paid attention to the reception a student gets if he or she is sorted into Slytherin? No you haven't," he said noticing her bow her head in shame, "No, you haven't questioned why we get the response we do because _it makes sense_. Once the hat yelled out _'Slytherin' _our fates were sealed. We turned from innocent first year into students who are _'evil'_, _'full of dark magic'_, and '_those not to be dealt with.'"_

Her own words echoed throughout her head. Those words she had uttered to Ron and Harry, the first time they had met on the Hogwarts Express. Words implying that Slytherin had produced every Dark Wizard known.

"Do you know why Slytherin is hated? Do you know why this House bears the stereotypes that it does?" He passed for a brief second and took her silence as a "no" before continuing, "I can't blame you for not knowing, it came long before us. Slytherin is hated because of Lord Voldemort. Because he was in Slytherin House. He transformed into the dark wizard that we know him as _while_ he lived in those quarters. Because _our_ House turned out the single darkest wizard of all time, _our_ House was given the blame. Not the professors for failing to prevent his rise to power though worried about the way he could use his powers, not even the wizard _himself_ for his own actions and deeds; no all the blame was given to the House and in turn its inhabitants who shouldered his blame. "

"Then do you find it odd Granger" his voice hard yet finely lined with accusation and hatred, " do you find it hard to understand, why so many of us have no option, no outlet but the Dark Lord? Can you begin to imagine the hate, the loneliness, the sheer anger at being characterized before having a _chance_ at proving ourselves that begins to fester? But that's not that's the worst part. No, the worst feeling is the helplessness, the sheer inability of being unable to rid yourself of the realization that you and your disposition have already been predetermined as though we're mere replicas. The Dark Lord offered us an outlet, a way out, a way to seek retribution and revenge against those who had shunned us. It is hauntingly fitting in a way, that you drove to fulfill our destinies before we even had a chance to make them."

"It's ironic really, this conversation," he said thoughtfully moving closer to Hermione," I can't blame you for not knowing the reason Slytherin is hated, but I fault you and do hold you responsible for accepting it as truth. You hated me for my abhorrence of your Muggleborn background, accused me of characterizing you to a set mold without questioning the roots of such ideals - statements which I will grant validity and accuracy, but" he paused, coming close to Hermione ," but really...are you any different?"

She didn't know what she could say. She stood before him, head bowed, completely cut to pieces at his words.

"I'm sorry."

Her empty words hung in the air filling the chasm between them. The silence was incriminating, stifling her. Draco's lip curled as the full force of what he had said hit her, the truth shattering like a mirror falling to the marble floor, turning into sharp pieces of jagged glass, so that they could never be repaired and undone, like the words he had just said.

How could she have _not_ seen this? How could she have not seen the sheer hypocrisy of her ways? She had loathed Malfoy for accepting the stereotypes of the Muggleborns...but so had she. Without knowing any Slytherins, without meeting any of them, she had predisposed their nature, playing a part in condemning them to a life of mistrust and segregation. Shame and humiliation as she had never felt before swept over her in waves, each subsequent harsher and more penetrating, drowning her like the harsh sea.

She winced at his harsh, cold laughter.

"Granger, what does apologizing do now?"

"It's not too late Malfoy."

"Not too late for what Granger? Not to late to stop this perpetual cycle you have created?" His laugh was cold, chilling sending goose bumps down her spine, "It's too late Granger."

He paused at the door, his hand on the knob.

"Far too late."

The door behind him swung shut, leaving Hermione alone in the room, mirroring just how she felt inside.

. & .

_"Well that's just typical of you Gryffindors. Treating assumptions and stereotypes as damning evidence."_

Malfoy's words were for Merlin's sake, _still_ echoing in her head as she lay sprawled out on her sofa in front of the fire the next day. The rain pounding on the roof was less painful than the repeated blows her hand were making on her head as she tried - and failed - to clear her brain.

His statement made sense to her now.

Hermione could not remember when someone had said something that had changed her life.

Statements that forced her to changed the way she looked at people. Arguments that changed her opinions and beliefs.

She had just experienced one of those moments.

Those brief moments she had spent with Malfoy in the supplies closet in McGonagall's class were not about to be forgotten soon.

The looks in his eyes, full of despair and accusation, were not about to be forgotten.

The shame and remorse she had felt at his words were _certainty_ not about to be forgotten.

She hadn't told anyone about the Dark Mark on Malfoy's arm - not even Harry or Ron. She had been rather surprised he hadn't pushed harder than he had for her not to divulge his secret, but she knew that he knew she would not tell on him. Yes, the Dark Mark meant the Dark Forces had infiltrated the castle, were now present in the impenetrable walls of Hogwarts. Dumbledore should have been alerted immediately. Any causalities resulting from her decision would result in innocent blood on her hands alone.

But deep down she knew. She knew that he wasn't capable of murder, of bloodshed. She was taking a risk - a dangerous and irreversible one at that - but she had to believe in this leap of faith and take this risk. Because only in risks alone, are boundaries challenged and broken. She had meant what she said earlier in the storeroom. It wasn't too late to stop this vicious cycle, regardless of what Malfoy said.

She started as a sharp knock on the door jolted her from her musings.

"Malfoy," she said in surprise as she opened the door to see him standing in front of her quarters.

"Is Potter in?" he said curtly looking around him disconcertedly.

"No, he's holding Quidditch practice right now. He's at the pitch. Did you have some....business with him?"

"Business? With Potter? Me? You have got to be kidding me," he scoffed, "Are you becoming more barmy as the days pass by? I just wanted to see if you were alone, I need to talk to you."

A genuine look of shock and disbelief replaced the withering and hateful look resulting from his usual demeaning comments.

"So then talk," she said finally, crossing her arms leaning in the doorway.

"Could you at least invite me in? Jeez Granger, where have your manners gone?" he said huffing, and without waiting for her answer, shoving past her into the living room.

"Take a seat," she said sarcastically as he took her spot and seating himself on the sofa in front of the fireplace, propping his feet on the table in front of him.

_"_Potter is clearly excited about the Quidditch match," he said off-handedly. He was looking around the pale yellow walls, which were now plastered with posters of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. "And oh," he said, nimbly standing up and walking towards a poster behind her," now this one is clearly my favorite."

He was standing next to a poster of him, everything identical from the polished nails to the gelled hair down to the ironed robes. But in this picture, he was rolling over and losing his balance on his broom, while the snitch was hovering in front of him but he was too busy looking at everything else to notice the delicate ball dancing tantalizing in front of him. On the bottom of the poster in shimmering silver letters was the slogan: "Potter: 10, Malfoy: 0." Hermione winced, bracing herself for the onslaught of attacks that were sure to come.

"Rather presumptuous don't you think?" She blinked. Instead of being angry as she had expected him to be, his face had broken into a small smile, and his eyes were shining with unshed mirth.

"Presumptuous? Oh, I wouldn't call it that?" she said, a smirk playing at the corners of her mouth.

"Really Granger? Is that so? Then what would _you_ call it -- already assuming you will play us in the finals next weekend?"

"I wouldn't call it presumptuous. I would call it... a reality check."

"Oh, a reality check? No one and I mean _no one_ beats the Draco Malfoy ten times in a row and allow me to give you a reality check: Slytherin will be beating your Gryffindorks handily next Saturday."

"Are you sure you didn't mean to say that Gryffindor would beat you for the tenth time in a row?"

"I'm sure. A Malfoy never lies."

Hermione laughed, as Malfoy relooked at the poster and mock-posed looked rather majestic next to it.

"I think I should do Potter a favor and sign this." Without another word, he leaned over and snatched a quill from the table, before bending over, obscuring Hermione's view. When he moved, his signature, still glistening with wet ink, was etched into the delicate parchment, adorning the botton right hand corner, the delicate loops of the letters decorating it.

"When Potter loses the match, tell him this is a complimentary gift from me to him," he smirked, winking as he twirled the quill in his hand before sitting back down.

"What did you come to tell me? I hardly doubt Quidditch was your reason of coming here."

The remaining hint of a smile faded from his face and Hermione could have sworn his shoulders had slightly fallen but in the next second he was staring her in the eye.

"Why haven't you told anyone about the mark?" he said, swiftly and suddenly in one breath as though he were trying to ask it before he had second thoughts. His voice was devoid of malice - only curiosity was there.

Malfoy seemed to have been curious about her action, she could practically see the internal battle waging a war within him, unsure of whether it would be a good idea to bring up the Mark again but curious as to _why_ she didn't tell Dumbledore.

She looked up in surprise, slightly squirming under his intense gaze. "I wanted to give you another chance - the chance that we hadn't give you."

"What did I tell you yesterday? It's too late," he repeated.

"That's the difference between us," she said slightly agitated, shifting so she was sitting on the balls of her feet, "You accept this, everything, whatever is happening. But I try to change it. Make an effort to take the chance and make something positive come out of this."

"If something happens -which I must warn you, might - people will blame _you_ for this if they come to find out, you know?"

"I do," she said determinedly, "But," she took a deep breath, toying with the silver ring on her finger, "I'm willing to take that chance, because I don't think you're like the rest of them."

"Don't assume things about me," he said, his voice hard.

"Time will tell then," she smiled before going back to scribbling on her parchment, "I will not tell and it will be, how should I put this" she mused momentarily sucking on the edge of her quill ",_ revealing_ as to how you handle yourself under these circumstances."

He didn't respond, merely grunting his response, before absentmindedly folding a scrap piece of parchment lying next to him into random shapes.

"My father sent me a letter," he said suddenly, still staring hard at the folded parchment.

Hermione remained staring at the ground, feeling rather uncomfortable, unsure of _why_ he was bringing this up, at this moment, but most unsure of _why to her_.

"I haven't responded yet."

She looked up at him sharply, realization beginning to dawn on her as to what he had just said, what he had implied with that statement. _He had not responded_. He wasn't sure of what to say, of what to write, and even as she sat there a small smile broke over her face, as a feeling of warmth, which she was sure, was not due to the fire directly behind her rushed through her. Because that to her, meant _what she had said had registered_.

"I have to go," he said abruptly standing up rather awkwardly.

The door closed softly behind him, leaving her alone in the steadily darkening living room though with each passing moment the darkness in his soul was slowly becoming brighter.

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	4. Intensus

_Title: _Virtus et Iudicium

_Author:_ Anjali Malfoy

_Rating:_ T

_Disclaimer:_ I do not in any way, shape, or form own Harry Potter or its characters.

**Chapter IV: Intensus**

_"Sex relevo intentus. Diligo causa it." --"__Sex alleviates __tension__. Love causes it.__"_

"Malfoy liked the poster." Harry stood in front of his poster, a bemused look on his face at the Slytherin's glittering signature on the right hand corner. His hands were on his hips, his gym bag leaning on his shoulder, as though he couldn't still believe what he was seeing. "When did he do this?"

"Oh, we had some logistics to discuss today for Transfiguration," she said smoothly, not missing a beat, falling backwards onto the sofa.

"Just another week and you'll be ridded of him. Bet you can't wait for that eh?" Harry said, winking at her, pulling off his wet clothes, which were plastered, to his body.

"Yeah," she said slowly, his voice faltering as it hit her that after this Quidditch final, she wouldn't be seeing Draco as much, speaking to him as much…being with him as much. He would again act like he had always acted, the unspoken truce of the last two week would be left to die in the dirt, trampled upon, until each spot of dirt and debris left no evidence that such a truce had ever existed.

For some unknown reason, when Harry said it, the reality which had been laying in the back of her mind, tantalizing suspended in mid-air, had been shoved into the forefront of her mind, the harshness of the reality finally sinking in so harshly, so bitterly, the feelings becoming so painfully real.

"How is your project going?"

"It's going as well as it can under the circumstance," he grimaced, now vigorously rubbing his hair dry with a towel, clad only in shorts and a white wife-beater. "Blaise isn't as bad as I thought he would be, but he's not the most agreeable person either. It's rather mild compared to other things we have had to face, so I'm not fazed," his smiled at her, the shadow of sadness passing over his face.

She knew what that sad smile meant – in a twisted way, Harry wanted to feel the nervousness and anxiety associated with dealing with a hated person. But he had seen and faced _so_ _much_ pain and bloodshed that no one in his young life should _ever _have had to seen and face, that very few situation fazed him, and managed to evoke another emotion besides nonchalance and numbness. But he had been stripped of his innocence at such a young age, each ensuing incident piercing and denting the armor of childhood naivety irreversibly until nothing remained but a hard shell of defiance and strength. Only Ginny had managed to penetrate that shield, giving him a piece that enabled him to heal from everything he had been through.

. & .

Hermione had in fact been correct for once in a matter concerning Quidditch, a week ago. The finals match for the Quidditch trophy did in fact pit the Slytherins against the Gryffindors for the second year running. What made this match more intriguing and very different than their previous matches was the chance for a coveted place in history.

If Gryffindor were to win this match, they would be the first House in over _fifty_ years to have won the Cup three times in five years. But it wasn't just House pride that was at stake. If Harry were to catch the snitch, he would be the only Seeker in the history of this school who would have caught the snitch in each match for three straight years – in fact he had not missed catching the snitch since the match against Diggory his third years. While the x-factors of history were enough to psych out any player, to Harry they only served to motivate him even more.

The night had been warm, as if to honour the possibility for a record-shattering match, and the weather had surprisingly obliged.

And that match had in fact, been as epic as it was hyped up to be. The match had lasted over _four hours_, ending at 1 am the next day. The tension in the stadium that night had been palpable, the adrenaline in the crowd electrifying.

The statistic were _staggering_, simply overwhelming to be comprehended by the sheer capacity of the mind. _Fifteen_ lead changes. _Four _injury timeouts. _Ten_ failed attempts by both seekers to catch the snitch. _Twenty-two _blocks by both Keepers combined. _Fifty-nine_ interceptions.

But what would last with every student, was the ending of the match.

_The crowd fell silent, partially due to the fact that it was Malfoy who was holding the small golden ball triumphantly in his hands, not Harry, who was suspended in the air, his own shock not concealed on his own face, blinking rapidly as though he himself could not believe what was happening…._

_In one fluid motion as, Draco turned a full circle on his broom and as his gaze turned swiftly to face Hermione admist the awestruck crowd , he winked and smiled before continuing…._

_The calculations with this unexpected turn of events could practically be heard though not spoken. Gryffindor 220…Slytherin 60…even with the snitch, … Slytherin was at 210…it wasn't enough…._

"_So Malfoy catches the snitch, but GRYFFINDOR WINS," shouted Colin into the microphone, his own voice full of surprise as though he himself could not believe what he had just seen. _

_The crowd erupted._

The euphoria at Gryffindor's victory and yet another Quidditch cup clearly had carried over to the next day. Somehow in the short six hours between the end of the match and 7 am, the castle had been decorated in gold and crimson. The entire Quidditch team could not walk more than ten steps before being mobbed. That is, all except the Slytherins. They were torn as to whether to be excited that Draco caught finally managed to catch the snitch before Harry or upset that Slytherin had lost yet another epic Quidditch final to the Gryffindors.

Unsurprisingly, everyone was fully expecting the tension between the two Houses to be at their breaking point in Potions that day, especially considering that both Harry and Draco were in the same class. Most were hoping for a fight, anxious to wipe the smirk that had been effectively pasted to Draco's face, while the few peacemakers were hoping things could progress smoothly.

No such luck. Five seconds had barely passed before Slytherins began making fun of Harry for losing to Draco, and of course every Gryffindor came to his defense, even as he shoved them away, urging them to take the high road and not respond.

Truth be told, while losing the snitch to Malfoy had stung a little, after all it had been the first match in three years that he had not caught it, Gryffindor had still won the Cup and he was more than content for leading his team to their second victory an achievement that was his and his alone.

He had never really understood the emotions that Wood had often displayed, the scene where he had sobbed uncontrollably into his neck was fresh as though it had happened yesterday, but now he understood the feeling of surging pride at holding the Cup, a sudden rush of loyalty to his House, and the rare opportunity to represent that House - those feelings and moments could never be taken away.

Not surprisingly, Snape was rather bitter and angry– more than usual- notdoubt at Slytherin's loss, and his displeasure was plain for all to see as his behavior towards Harry and Ron was more despicable than usual.

"Guess the youngest Seeker in a century isn't cut out to be all he is, is he?" he sneered, leering at Harry.

"Maybe not, but this youngest Seeker that you speak of is the first player in Hogwarts to lead Gryffindor to three titles in five years," replied Harry coldly, his eyes staring directly into those of his Professor. Slytherins he could handle being rude and obnoxious but he held Professors to another standard and gone were the days where Snape could boss him around and insult him.

"Fifty points from Gryffindor, Mr. Potter, and detention for the week. If I hear another word, you will be serving detention for the rest of the term," Snape hissed, his eyes growing ever more menacing as Harry spoke, if that were possible. Behind him, the other Gryffindors were practically jumping with mirth as the smirks which were initially present on the Slytherins' faces were instantly wiped off the moment Harry had spoke.

So hostile was the scene between the two Houses, that midway through the class, Hermione felt she needed a slight breather. Wiping the sweat off her forehead, she lowered the potion to a simmer for thirty minutes as the instructions required before going into the storeroom.

Sighing, she leaned against the cool stone door as the cold wind of his storeroom hit her. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the darkness of the room. Unlike the other storerooms for the other Professors, his was a makeshift closet in the dungeons. The walls were made of jagged, dark, rough rock, sharp edges jutting out of the walls capable of some serious damage if one wasn't careful.

The shelves were roughly hand-carved a foot into the walls themselves. Shelves went from the bottom of the wall, where her feet were to the top of the wall, just a few inches below the ceiling. It was easily a good twenty feet. Bottles carefully labeled by their usage and categories were precariously perched in every shelf, magically charmed to stay in their spots. The only light present in this room came from torches, the flames burning brightly from where they stood halfway up the wall, fastened in their stone holders. The vermillion light cast enough in the room though it took several moments to adjust.

As her eyes adjusted to the slightly darker room, she caught sight of a body sitting in one of the stone chairs in the back of the room.

"Hello?" she called hesitantly, towards the person, moving slowly closer.

"Granger," a voice drawled.

"Malfoy," she said, feeling a sudden nervousness pool in her stomach, feeling knots form, as she forced herself to move even closer until she could see him clearly.

He was sprawled on the chair, his legs swung over the left armchair, his elbow casually yet elegantly propped up on the right armchair, his hand lazily holding his chin as he surveyed her coolly. The casual elegance of his posture sent another jolt of uneasiness through her body.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, perplexed.

"I could ask you the same thing," he said smoothly, his gaze not moving from her face. "Why are you still standing? Take a seat," he said, gently waving his hand over the stone benches that lay under several tables.

She raised an eyebrow at his charm and moment of civility before realizing the high from beating Harry last night had probably not worn off.

"I needed to get out of that classroom for a while," she said dismissively, seating herself on the table, and idly dumping a few beetles from a glass jar into a mortar.

"Heated out there I presume?"

"You can say that again," a small laugh escaping her lips, as her hands nimbly playing with the pestle, " It's pretty volatile out there, more so that last year."

"I can imagine," he said, in the same cool voice.

"By the way great job last night," she said hesitantly, unsure as to whether her mentioning his catch would delight or infuriate him. To her slight surprise, a genuine smile spread across his face, and for a moment Hermione found herself entranced. She had rarely seen anything so beautiful as the genuine smile, not smirk, that had spread across his features.

"Celebrate much last night?" Draco said, his question coming out more like a statement rather than a question.

"Of course," she said as though it were clear, turning slightly to her right so her profile was to Draco. She gently pouring some more beetles into the grinder before grabbing the pestle and began stirring.

"So how was Potter last night?" he said smugly, running one of his fingers along a potions bottles aimlessly, hoping to hear he had been wallowing, searching for an opportunity to rub salt in an already throbbing and raw wound.

"He was in great spirits last night," she said brightly, shoving some remaining dust off her hands before continuing to grind the beetles. "Why?" she asked, after a brief pause, as though something had registered, turning around and frowning as she noticed his euphoric look ebb away, "Did you want him to feel humiliated that he hadn't caught the snitch before you?"

"Of course," he said unabashedly.

Hermione set the pestle down abruptly into the container dusting her hands of any remaining residue before turning around, and crossing her arms, a deep frown forming on the crown of her forehead.

"Why would you want him to be miserable? Because he for once didn't manage to catch the snitch and you did? What did you expect him to do? Mope and be sullen that he couldn't leave Hogwarts with a perfect 10-0 record against you?"

He could see from the flickering light of the candles that her face had darkened with disgust. He didn't say anything, just sat there staring defiantly back at her.

"Do you know what he said to me after the match?" she asked, turning to face him completely, her voice laced with anger, "He said you _deserved_ to catch the snitch, not him. He knew you wanted it more, knew you were hungrier for it. That didn't mean that he played any less hard, if anything that made him play harder. But he recognized how well you played last night, the quality with which you flew. And he wasn't ashamed or frightened to admit it. Because t_hat's_ the kind of guy Harry is, always willing to give credit where it is deserved and due. "

Her voice was harsh and blunt, sharp and brittle like a double-edged sword, yet disappointed and angry at the same time. Her hazel eyes, which almost appeared golden in the light of the flame, were staring hard at his face, glowed with anger though a slight shadow of angry resignation lay behind them,

" He is able to recognize when his own personal achievements are insignificant to those of the greater good. So he wasn't the youngest Seeker to catch the snitch for three straight years, but our House _won_. Let me tell you something. That achievement would have meant absolutely _nothing_ if we had not won. He knows and understands that his own personal successes don't matter when the whole team loses. That's the kind of guy Harry is. "

Shaking her head in disbelief directed more at herself than him, she got off the table and walked towards him, stopping at the stone wall directly to his left. She stood there silent for a few moments, just staring at the glittering bottles behind him. When she spoke again, the anger from her voice was gone and was instead soft, replaced with pity and…disappointment. "Sometimes I don't understand why you hold on to this," her voice echoing throughout the room, though she spoke barely above a whisper.

"Seven years, you and Harry have had this battle, this enmity to best each other at every possible opportunity, but I have seen him grow out of it, mature into a seventeen year old, allowing himself to let go of the childish feud that had been created when he was eleven. But you? You don't. Harry's different that what you've seen him to be, but you wouldn't know would you, you never gave yourself the opportunity, the chance to get to know him. "

Draco bowed his head slightly, staring at the stone wall right behind. Her last statement had struck a chord with him. Her words hung suspended in the air, slowly forming a circle around him, a shawl made of incriminating and accusatory words, each serving to stifle him more and more. His own words echoed through his head, followed by Harry's words.

"I did," he said hollowly, still refusing to meet her gaze, though he could feel it burning a hole into his scalp, like a magnifying glass focused on a piece of dry wood until the heat on the wood was so strong that it eventually burst into flames. "I did try to get to know him."

He didn't know what compelled him to admit that, knowing that he was opening doors of humiliation. Maybe it was his defense to his treatment of Potter or maybe it was to let her know that he had in fact tried, that he wasn't as childish as she had made him out to be. He didn't understand why she was having this much of an effect on him, but as she had talked, he felt himself becoming smaller and smaller under her words as the harsh reality of what she was saying slowly and painfully sank in.

"What?" she asked, her voice laced with surprise and shock.

"I tried to get to know him," he repeated his voice slightly lower than before.

Draco sighed, rubbing his hands together. Seven years later, the deep cut he had felt when Harry had said those words stung just as bad. "_I think I can tell for myself thanks," _before stalking off with riffraff like Weasley, leaving him with his hand outstretched before him, the feelings of humiliation and hurt, mixed with anger becoming so very real…

"Before we were sorted." Suddenly feeling the need to stand up and walk, he moved toward a shelf on the opposite side of the storeroom, aware of her now curious eyes following him, "I remember it as vividly as if it happened yesterday," he began, his voice emotionless, and flat his eyes fixing themselves on a shimmering deep purple in front of him, " I had introduced myself to him when I realized he in fact was Harry Potter and at the mention of my name, Weasley snorted," his calm voice for the first time, twisting with hatred as he spat Ron's name with a venom she had never heard.

He paused for a moment, taking several deep breaths, letting the air out slowly before continuing. "Of course, I insulted Weasley and then held out my hand to Potter." He let out a derisive laugh, the sound echoing off the walls, "I still remember what he said to this day, "I think I can tell for myself thanks."

"Wow," said Hermione, still shocked by the initial fact that Malfoy had wanted to be friends with Harry.

"Is that all you can say?" he snapped irritably, turning away from the shelf, moving past her and to the door, determined to leave this room, before he stupidly made any more of his foolish acts known.

'Is that why you tried to make us angry in every way possible and make our lives miserable?"

"What difference does it make why I did what I did?" still moving towards the door.

Hermione moved swiftly so she was standing in front of the door, her arms across her chest.

"I'm not moving until you answer," she said stubbornly.

"Yes," he growled, "I tried to beat Potter in every way, because he had refused me, my friendship, my alliance. I wanted him to feel remorse, feel regret that he had ever had the audacity to refuse me, the humiliate me, and challenge my family name. I wanted him to come back to me, crawling, realizing just what a big mistake he had made," he was yelling now, his voice echoing of the walls.

Breathing hard, he stared hardly at her, daring her to say anything against what he had just said, the feelings he had just admitted.

"When he didn't, it just depended my hatred even further. Can you blame me for feeling so euphoric after beating him in Quidditch for once?" he spat.

"Were you trying to beat him just for that reason?"

"My father, my own pride, what difference does that make?" he drawled carelessly, "_Now move," _he said attempting to get to the doorknob.

Hermione stood there stubbornly, hands still crossed over her chest.

He faltered, the first sign of vulnerability she had seen on his face all afternoon, his outstretched hand falling limply to his side.

"Was is jealously?"

He didn't answer her question, but his silence was enough. He was looking at her, his eyes dimmed and cold yet veiled with hateful resignation and bitterness.

"I don't need you feeling sorry for me," his voice soft yet hard, edged with the same bitterness reflected in his eyes.

"You needn't worry," her voice also calm yet reassuring, "I don't think any less of you, and no not because my opinion could go any lower," a small laugh escaping her lips, a small smirk gracing the corners of his mouth as his resumed their usual coolness and arrogance, "But I'm glad you told me, it …."

"I don't expect you to forgive me for all I have put you through, " he said his voice stronger, his eyes boring into hers with strength and determination, "but maybe this can shed some light as to why I acted the way I did. I'm not trying to use them as an excuse for my behavior, nor will I pin the blame for my actions on anyone else. The reasons I had were understandable as an eleven year old but not until now did I realize how pointless and childish they were. "

"You've taken responsibility for your actions," she said softly, feeling a strange stirring sensation come over her, "That's enough for me."

"How can you forgive everything, forgive _me_, that easily?"

Hermione laughed at the shock and wonder in his voice.

"I won't forget what you did – I forgive but I _never_ forget. You don't have my full trust yet –"

"I have to earn it."

"Yes. Trust and respect are not rights, they're privileges, you have to earn them."

"And I haven't _fully_ earned them yet," his voice speckled with a hint of mirth.

"It's been a little less than two weeks, Malfoy so, no, you haven't - not fully."

"But I have managed to get _some_ respect and trust," his voice prodding her, as he took a step closer. "Come on, admit it."

Hermione laughed as she leaned against the door.

"All I am trying to say is that…I understand," she said, becoming serious once more.

"Understand what?" he asked, his own expression sobering up as she became serious.

"I understand why you acted the way you did and believe the things you do – your father."

"We are not talking about my father," he said curtly, swiftly closing up in the blink of an eye, like an animal suddenly aware of an imminent threat swiftly recoiling back into its shell.

Hermione blinked, taken aback by the sudden and violent shift in his attitude. The smile on his face had been wiped off leaving a look of bitterness and confusion, like a bright blue sky suddenly becoming overcast. Suddenly, the room seemed colder than before.

"Move, Granger," he said, his voice cold.

"For Merlin's sake," he snapped when she stood there, the first signs of his temper coming back and without meaning to, grabbed her hips, turned her squarely to face him and yanked her towards him, with the full intention of sliding her behind him.

What he didn't expect was his action to startle her, causing her to yelp at his sudden movement and grasp him tightly around his neck. His breath caught in his throat as he realized what position they were now in.

Hermione fought back a gasp as her body collided with his hard torso, sending a shiver down her spine. She was mildly aware of his arms wrapped around her waist, the touch of his silky locks on her hands, and his eyes which were staring back into hers with the same emotions she was feeling – shock, panic, adrenaline.

Slowly, she lifted herself onto her tiptoes, not breaking his gaze. Boldly, she leaned in until her mouth was right next to his right ear. Her ragged breath was sending shivers down his spine, as her hands gently ran down his arms to rest on his forearms.

"You hold on to stuff like this, and every time I think you've changed, you do _something _that sets me back. Listen to me..you will _never_ get respect from others for your own capabilities," she softly breathed, "until you begin respecting them yourself."

Slowly, she disengaged her arms from his, slowly coming back down to rest on her heels. Her sudden movement jolted him, as his arms left her waist, to fall next to his side, hanging limply. Without another world, she turned and opened the door, pausing for a brief moment to look back. The look in his eyes was dark, inscrutable, the flames from the candles flickering over the silver orbs. Then she was gone.

As the door swept closed behind her, enclosing Draco in the room, he suddenly felt his head start to spin as the events of what had just happened swam before his eyes, the feeling of nausea coupled with confusion overcoming him. As he collapsed onto the chair, trying to regain his breath, his mind registered on one thought: _What the hell had just happened?_

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	5. Convulsus

_Title: Virtus et Iudicium _

_Author:_ Anjali Malfoy

_Rating:_ T

_Disclaimer:_ I do not in any way, shape, or form own Harry Potter or its characters.

_A/N: Once again, a huge thanks to those individuals who reviewed! You guys are the best._

**Chapter V: Convulsus**

_"Truth est convulsus speculum spargo in myriad bits. " -- Truth is the shattered mirror stewn in myriad bits. _

"_What in Merlin's name had just happened?"_

The thought consumed her mind, as she ran up the stone stairs after hurriedly filling her vial with the potion. So engrossed was she in the conversation and what had happened in the storeroom that she had completely forgot about her potion. Luckily, she had come out just in time just to save enough to fill a vial before it all evaporated in her cauldron.

Behind her, she heard Ron and Ginny enter the portrait hole, Ginny laughing hard at something Ron must have said.

"Where did you vanish to so early?" Ron plopped down on the couch next to her, kissing her on the cheek.

"I lost track of time, and when I came out I saw everyone was gone," she said quickly, probably a little _too_ quickly but luckily Ron didn't notice.

"We thought you had finished early and left."

"You didn't see my bag there and thought how weird it was that I left that there?" she said, cocking an eyebrow at him, smirking slightly a Ron turned red as he vaguely mumbled something that sounded like that had somehow escaped his mind.

"Hermione." Ginny exited the bathroom and flopping down next to her on the sofa, interrupting her thoughts. "What do you say to going out to Hogsmeade for a bit this evening? Just you, me, Harry and Ron, like old times. We haven't been there in ages," she coaxed, playfully touching a strand of Hermione's hair that had fallen from her ponytail.

"You know, that sounds good," Hermione said suddenly, sitting straight up. Maybe that's what she needed, to get away from him for a bit, get away from this scenery for a bit little, clear her mind. It might give her a new perspective. "Harry and I have to be back by eleven for patrol."

"Seven to ten-thirty it is then."

"Speaking of Harry, where is he?" Hermione asked curiously.

"He has detention with Snape, remember? After you know, the stunt he pulled today in class," said Ron, smirking as he remembered Snape's face.

"Well, if we're going to Hogsmeade from seven to ten, I'll need to get some work done," said Hermione, standing up and opening her bag over her shoulder. "And it wouldn't hurt you to study either, your marks in Potions haven't exactly been outstanding" she said sternly as Ron made a strangled noise, as though he was trying to stifle a snort.

"Potions, smotions, I think I'll pass, " said Ron, lying back lazily on the couch, "It's finally nice weather, about time. I think I'll head over to the Quidditch pitch and fly around for a bit."

"I'll see you guys in a couple hours." Ginny grabbed her thick textbook from the table. "I have my Muggle studies class in half an hour, but I'll be back with Harry."

"Hermione," grumbled Ron as Hermione carried her books to the table and spread her work over the length of the table.

"Hermione!" he exclaimed even louder, when she didn't respond.

So engrossed was she in sorting her work out by class that she only responded when he came behind her and grabbed her by her waist.

"Distracted much are we?" he said, kissing her cheek, his arms encircling her waist.

"Hmm," she muttered idly, her mind still focusing on her work.

"Hermione." This time his voice was more serious.

"Hey," she exclaimed as he took the quill, "What are –"

"Shh," he murmured, setting the quill down, "We haven't spent much time together lately."

"I know, and I'm sorry," she said. Usually she felt guilty but this time no guilt beginning to creep over her. Yes, maybe a tad at neglecting her best friend, but none for neglecting him as her boyfriend. "I've been so caught up in everything. But I promise I'll make it up to you tonight. It'll just be us four at Hogsmeade alright?"

Ron's anxiousness seemed to abate at her words as his facial muscles relaxed and he gently let her go.

"Sit with me," he urged, gently pulling her hand towards him.

"Ron, you know I can't work when I'm sitting on a sofa, I always end up asleep."

A loud peal of laughter left her mouth as he turned the corners of his mouth down and lowered his eyes before slightly looking up at her.

"Don't do this to me Ron," she said, ruffling up his hair. "You said you were going to go play Quidditch."

"I was because I thought you were going to the library, but if you're not, I'd rather spend it alone with you."

The look in his eyes was so earnest that she found herself giving in slightly though the weird feeling of guilt was beginning to resurface.

"I can see you giving in," he wheeled, as he saw the hard look on her face start to waver.

"Don't do this to me," she warned as he pulled her arm harder. "_Ron_."

"Fine," he sighed, letting her go, "I'll go and fly around a bit."

Giving her one last kiss, he exited, leaving Hermione to her work and confused thoughts.

. & .

Draco sat in an armchair in front of the Slytherin fireplace, his posture upright and rigid, his gaze staring hard and long into the fireplace, his only movement coming from his eyelashes when he blinked when the intensity of the flames became too much to bear before going back to stare resolutely.

This was the very fire he'd thrown his father's letter into, watching it closely until each last fiber of parchment had curled before bursting into flames and then turning into black ash, mixing with the ash from the wood, until it was no longer distinguishable. The letter he had unknowingly told Hermione about, the letter he had not known what to do with it, but the confusion and hesitation he had felt at accepting that letter had shattered him made him unable to look at it so without rhyme or reason, as though his body were acting of its accord, he had tossed it into the fire. For the first time in his life, his emotions were refusing to act the way his mind was telling it to and at a loss. A loss at what to belief, what to choose, what to think, and it was only becoming more hazy and complicated as the days passed, more impossible to decipher _every single time_ he spoke to her.

"_Everytime I think you've changed, you do something that says otherwise." _What had she meant by that? She though _he_ had _changed_? Changed. Turned into something he wasn't. Change used to be a good thing but…now he wasn't so sure. Everything was happening so suddenly, so fast that he had barely gotten time to adjust to something new before she would hit him with another shot. Change? _What_ exactly was he changing into? _How_ was he changing? Just the mere thought was enough to send fear into his heart, the thin dagger slowly penetrating his heart, puncturing it and letting the thin stream of feel slowly seep into his bloodstream like poison, slowly but surely paralyzing him.

Who was he now? Was he pureblood, the son of one of the most prestigious wizarding houses, a symbol for all they stood for, or was he a betrayer, someone who had been changed into believing something he had been trained to dislike his whole life. Was he one of them, or a mixture of the two? Could be only be one of them or could he be both? But even as he sat there, he realized he couldn't be two, so contradictory were they, different as night and day, fire and ice, black and white, right and wrong…but then _which one was right? _

But did he _want_ to side with the right thing? Who determined what was right? Him? His father? Voldemort? Granger? Everything his father had taught him had looked so right then but now just looked so…_wrong. _But what did that mean? Did that mean he had no other option but to leave this behind? Leave the world that he had known since he was born for something that was still so new and glistening with the initial glow of glory and pride, before dulling as one accustomed to it even though that seemed so…_right. _But what _she_ was telling him was, it was right, could she possibly be as deceived as he was in believing what he had always believed in?

His eye gaze fell on the thick stack of paperwork laying next to his feet, the sheets of white parchment a sharp contrast to the dark thoughts in his mind. Eager to get his mind off her, there was nothing better than reading a stack of advanced Potions paper in a corner of the library.

. & .

Hermione was thankful she had decided to spend the evening in Hogsmeade with her friends. Hogwarts seemed far away, a problem that seemed to exist in a universe she wasn't in connection with though she knew she would have to deal with it later. But for now, she needn't trouble herself about it.

Laughing, she shoved open the door to Madam Roberta's, squealing as Ron's hand came into contact with her side, causing her to fall back. The rain was falling again, harder than before.

"Go in," yelled Harry above the pattering rain, raising his hands to shield himself from the rain, laughing as he shoved Ron in, carefully not to make him slip on the stone pathway.

They tumbled into the bar, holding on one another to keep themselves from falling on the wooden floor, their laughter drowned by the noisy bar, their clothes soaking wet, their hair glistening with the raindrops, lying limply on their shoulders. Still laughing, they squeezed into the only open booth in the very corner of the bar.

"It is rather full in here," commented Ginny, gently squeezing her hair with the towel Harry had just conjured up, before passing it to Hermione who sat right next to her in the half-moon shaped booth.

Even on the weekday, the bar was holding more people than it is possibly hold. Every booth was full of laughing people, some drunk, others flirting very strongly with the fine line between tipsy and drunk. The light wooden walls were plastered with posters, booths circling the circumference of the small bar. Every stool was filled at the bar in the very back of the pub, right next to where they sat just. Each of the tables in the center of the room were surrounded with wooden chairs. A fire was crackling merrily on the opposite side of the room; people sat around it in cushy chairs.

"That fire looks very tempting," Ron said staring at the fire, who was still slightly shivering from the cold, "Come on Harry."

"Oh Hermione," said Ginny suddenly, turning towards her as the two boys made their way towards the fire, "I meant to tell you something. Oh, two butterbeers and two firewhiskys please," she said distractedly to the waitress before turning back. "We started a new book in Muggle studies last week!"

"Which one?" Hermione's eyes lit up with excitement as she quickly wiped down the cracked leather sofa because depositing the now damp towel in the wastebasket next to the booth. The heat from the room was already beginning to soak up most of the residue moisture from their clothes.

"Pride and Prejudice!" she said excitedly, "She said it was a classic!"

"It is! It is one of the novels _everyone_ should read growing up. There's just so much to analyze, so much material to sink your teeth into, to interpret. It has messages to learn from and to just improve yourself on –"

"Yes, yes," Ginny laughed holding her hands up to steady Hermione who was positively glowing with excitement.

"So how much have you read?"

"I finished it," she admitted, taking a sip of her drink which had just arrived and waving her hands to get Harry and Ron's attention who were still sitting in front of the fire, "We got to the part where Elizabeth and Darcy were invited to the Bingley's party in class and she didn't want us to read ahead without analyzing the previous parts but I was rather addicted," she said her face turning a bright red.

"I completely understand. It's really good," Hermione said, winking.

"What really good besides me of course?" Ron asked, sliding in to sit next to Hermione and rather ungentlemanly gulping down his drink – Hermione poked him and stared at him pointedly.

"We were just talking about a book, a Muggle book actually, actually maybe you've heard of it Harry – Pride and Prejudice?"

"Oh yes, of course," he said dismissively, taking a long sip of his drink -- "It's a classic. I was forced to read it in middle school."

"What's this Pride and Prejudice you guys are speaking off?"

"A book, Ron, weren't you listening?" all three of them said exasperatedly.

"What's it about?"

"Don't tell the whole story, make him read it!" Ginny said.

"Like that will happen," huffed Ron.

"It's rather hard to explain," Hermione started, pausing as she leaned on her hand, staring off thoughtfully, "A summary never can do justice to just how good this book is. It's set in England, and in a time where certain customs were followed. It's essentially revolves two characters: Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy, who are from two very different families in terms of wealth, social status – you get the picture - and how they end up transforming because of one another."

"Transforming how?" Ron asked curiously, leaning over and snagging another drink off a tray a waiter was carrying.

"So…" Hermione paused, tilting her already half-empty bottle of butterbeer from side to side, "It's a little hard to explain without knowing the background."

"Essentially," jumped in Ginny, "Darcy begins to find himself attracted to Elizabeth, despite the significant difference in their social status –"

"And he is very aware of this, yet he comes to terms with the fact that he in fact does love her –"

"But, do you remember the proposal?" Ginny turned to face Hermione fully, her face twisted with shock and anger, " It was absolutely ghastly."

"That's basically the climax of this story. So Darcy goes over personally to Elizabeth's house to propose to her, but the manner in which he asks for her hand in marriage is simply _irreconcilable_. I was _utterly_ flabbergasted at the manner in which he treated her."

"The things he said were just so…" Ginny struggled to find a word. "reprehensible," Harry cut in. "Yes!" she exclaimed, "that's the word. _Reprehensible_. He made it so clear to her how lucky she was to be asked by a man of his stature and just so bluntly stated how low her family was on the social ladder. I mean… I can't even reproduce what he said."

"But she still ends up marrying him?" Ron asked curiously, his eyebrows furrowing up in confusion. "How in the devil does that happen?"

"Well she refuses him, as she should," "I know right, if she had accepted him, I would have been so disappointed in her…" "She wouldn't have – she had too much pride."

"Anyways," said Ron loudly.

"Sorry, yes, where were we…? Oh, right, how they got married. Elizabeth essentially rejects him with several very powerful choice phrases and throws him out. That obviously wasn't the reaction he was expecting, so I mean, at first he was angry and offended but then he realizes he doesn't want to let her go and so he begins to change."

"He changes _just_ because she refused him?"

"Well, not exactly like that. He is a proud individual. Darcy is a _very_ proud man, part of why the title was named 'pride.' Things begin to change when Elizabeth goes to Permberly and visits his manor and accidentally runs into him because he had come one day early, and he's a bit different."

"And so she starts warming up to him just like that., just because he says something sweet, does something ..." Ron asked, looking rather disgusted at what Hermione presumed to be the idea of her caving in so soon.

"Oh Merlin no, Elizabeth is not like that. She's the only one in this story who is as prideful as Darcy but in a much different way. She prides herself, her ability, but Darcy prides himself because of the social status and influence he has on the society. There is a lot that happens in between his first and second proposals and when you read it, it becomes clear that he has in fact changed for the better and genuinely loves her."

"That's actually what bugged me the first time I read it," Harry spoke for the first time in a while, "I could not fathom how he could change so fast. I mean, these were values he had been _raised_ with. Those values that you learn as a kid are…ingrained. It's hard…sometimes even impossible to get rid of the influence they have on us, and I mean, he was _old_."

"It's not impossible ---" "Oh, by no means, its not impossible," Harry corrected himself wincing as a shot of hard liquor went down his throat, "but it's _very_ difficult, and he looked at her in that light for so long. How do you just get rid of that? You can't just snap your fingers," he said, snapping his fingers as if to emphasize his words, "and you know, erase any lingering prejudice."

"I totally agree with Harry. It's a complete mind shift –" interjected Ron nodding at him, "What exactly did he do –"

"You do need to read the book to completely understand what went on. She did have legitimate reason," Hermione said defensively, not knowing exactly _why_ she felt so protective of Elizabeth's actions…"but --"

"Well, what constitutes 'legitimate reasons'?" he asked.

"Well for her, it wasn't just words, she needed evidence that he truly had changed for the better."

"Letting someone know they are trying to change is a start in it of itself," Ginny commented lightly.

"I guess…" Ron begrudgingly said, wincing as the butterbeer bottle Ginny had been idly playing with fell with a clatter on the table, "But you do have to back it up with actions, because words by their lonesome really do not mean jack."

"That's true but better picking him rather than that creep cousin – the priest, Merlin, Hermione what was his name?"

"Mr. Collins."

"Who is Mr. Collins?" Ron asked, "Merlin, how many characters are there?"

"Mr. Collins is her cousin, or some version of a cousin – he asked her to marry him and she refused his hand, not because he was a horrible man, but because she knew she could never love him."

"Well, that is ridiculous." Ron snorted derisively, "If he is a good guy, and if he loves her and is good to her, why would she refuse him?"

"Well I mean who would you pick?" Ginny asked easily, putting the last remaining crisp in her mouth before crumpling the empty chip bag, "Would you pick your lover but no security that it would work out or a person who treats you well but you could never love?"

Hermione had frozen, her own bottle of butterbeer halfway to her mouth.

"That's easy," Harry had snorted, lightly poking Ginny, " The person who treats you right and you know with whom it is going to last. You can't get married if it won't last."

"Well said mate," chortled Ron, slapping hands with Harry across the booth.

"But you can't pick the person you don't love," interjected Ginny, "That wouldn't be a marriage -- that would be a compromise."

"Look, we're not saying love isn't any less important. But why bother getting married if it's not bound to work out? That's just a waste of time."

"It is not a waste of time Ron," snapped Ginny, her cheeks reddening either from the heat of the room or anger or both as Hermione had expected, "How can you say love is a waste of time? That is --"

"You are completely missing our point Gin. All we're saying is that between those two, if you're planning to _marry_ someone, you want _stability_, you need a strong foundation," said Harry quickly. He could sense a fight starting to plant seed between the two redheads. "Parvati was telling me about this the other day actually – this is common in India. Her own parents had an arranged marriage – a marriage between a man and a woman who do not love each other but are compatible and amicable and know their relationship will work out."

"Oh please, those types of marriages would end anyways. It's completely obvious," retorted Ginny. Her eyes were shooting fire now. She was sitting on her haunches, her hands placed on her hips. " How in the _bloody_ hell do you expect to keep a marriage going if you don't love the idiot you share the bed with?"

"You know what your problem is," interjected Ron, ignoring a warning "_Ron_" from Harry. "You're still in your eleven year old mind. You still have those stupid, idealized views. "

"How _dare_ you? Just because I would pick the love marriage does not mean I am detached from reality, you self-absorbed prat!"

The next thing Ron felt was a coaster on his head as Ginny had grabbed for the closest thing next to her to throw. Her brown eyes glittered with mirth and satisfaction as Ron yelped and clutched his head.

"What the matter with you, you witch, you're the one who..."

It was at this point that Hermione had become absorbed in her own thoughts and detached herself from the conversation. She wasn't sure what to say to Ginny's question, in all actuality. Because she herself did not know. Her head was telling her to go with the man who would treat her right but her heart was holding her back.

Love held a certain amount of sanctity, a modicum of innocence. Love. A word thrown around in everyday jargon. But she knew what true love was - or she could imagine what it was. Love. She had never known it, never felt it for anyone, never received it from anyone. Yes, she wanted stability and a man who would treat her right, but was that enough? Love. Was love enough to overcome any problems a relationship could have? What if it wasn't?

She knew enough that love wasn't enough to keep a marriage going. It is just a foundation. Out of this mess, Hermione only knew one thing. The love she wanted, no, the love her heart wanted, wasn't Ron. Yes, she loved Ron - with all her heart, but not with her soul. She loved him like the best friend that he is, but could she love him like a wife, like a woman who would be bound to him forever by vows and love?

"...Hermione?"

Harry was staring at her curiously. Ginny and Ron had apparently calmed down; Ginny was back to leaning on Harry's shoulder, now munching crisps.

"Sorry, I drifted into my own...thoughts for a moment there."

"We didn't get your answer to my question," said Ginny between bites of food.

"She doesn't have to answer," said Ron proudly swinging his arm across Hermione's shoulders pulling her to rest between his elbow and broad shoulder and planting a big, sloppy kiss on her cheek." We all know she would choose me."

Hermione forced a smile on her face. It took every amount of self-restraint not to wipe her cheek. She hated when Ron would try answering for her. But now wasn't a time to force the issue.

"Yeah," Hermione forced herself to say with a smile. Thankfully, that seemed to appease the other three. "Anyways, where we were?"

"Before Ginny brought sidetracked us," Ron snickered, responding to her withering look with one of his own, "We were talking about how this Darcy changed and made Elizabeth marry him."

"He did pay for that good-for-nothing Wickham's debts and their wedding," reminded Harry, downing yet another shot of clear liquor.

"Wait, I though she married this Darcy fellow," a confused look coming over Ron's face.

The look on his face sent the other three into laughter. "She did," Hermione chuckled, "We're talking about Lydia – Elizabeth's sister. She had eloped with Wickham and in those days, eloping with someone without being married to them was atrocious and the family the daughter was from could _never_ recover from the shame and prejudice they faced from society. So Darcy took it upon himself to pay those debts and get Lydia and Wickham married to each other."

"He was quite of a bloke to do that," Ron showing the first signs of warming up to Darcy.

"You seem to have to have it in for Darcy don't you?" Harry smirked at Ron over another bottle of butterbeer.

"I think that'll be your last bottle for tonight," Ginny said to Harry, frowning over her shoulder at him, looking rather disapprovingly at the amount of alcohol he had consumed in the last hour.

"Yes, yes," he said idly, taking another long swig from his bottle; when she continued to stare at him through narrowed eyes, he winked at her as if to reassure her, slightly nodding his head.

"I don't know why I feel that way…." Ron said slowly, "This is going to sound completely barmy, but for some reason…Darcy reminded me of Malfoy."

The gulp of butterbeer that Hermione had taken was now painting the table in a series of brown spots. Choking violently, Hermione clutched her chest as she continued to cough, her windpipes feelings as though someone as stuck a giant marble down there making it hard for her to breathe. She couldn't see more than a couple inches in front of her eyes – so teary were her eyes.

"Are you _ok_?" all three of them asked worriedly, each of them overlapping with each other, Ginny hitting her back gently yet firmly at the same time. "Here –" she held out a bunch of napkins.

"I'm fine," she croaked, wiping her mouth. "Thanks. " "Sorry about that…"

"Did I say something?" Ron asked, bewildered, "About Malfoy…"

"Oh, no, no," she said anxious to move on from this rather embarrassing episode, "I just gulped too much in one go. I'm fine, don't worry about it."

Next to them, Ginny was scolding Harry for asking the waiter to bring another set of drinks.

"You promised me that you would not drink more than six shots of –"

"I have a high tolerance and endurance," he muttered softly so as to not let Ron hear, "I can show you again tonight…though you should know by now," he whispering smirking rather cheekily as Ginny turned bright red before hitting him slightly and then turning back, her face now flaming.

"I'm fine," Hermione said hurriedly, taking another sip of her new drink as if to prove it, "Where were we?"

"Darcy…hating him….Malfoy!"

"Right," said Ron launching back into his slight tirade, "Something about Darcy just reminded me of Malfoy."

"Malfoy _is_ full of crap like Darcy was," chortled Harry.

"And he thinks he's all-that because he is a Malfoy," chimed in Ginny.

"So that means he could change like Darcy did too, right?" Hermione asked tentatively, praying her question wouldn't attract the wrong idea.

All three of them turned to look at her as though she had just said Voldemort was the most righteous wizard to walk the grounds of Hogwarts.

"Malfoy? Change?" Ron scoffed, his face darkening, "That bastard can never change –" His voice was positively brimming with disgust and hatred, "There's just some people who have gone over way too much to the dark side."

"And Malfoy's so different. I mean, Darcy's beliefs were innocuous – yeah they were despicable, I'm not denying that, but Malfoy's are about which side to choose in this War, who should _live and die_."

"So there is no way he could ever change. He's a hopeless case."

Harry seemed to deflate a little. "I mean –" he faltered, "No one is ever….100% hopeless, but if anyone couldn't possibly be changed, it'd have to be him. He's got one of the darkest wizards for a father, and is in Slytherin, so the idea of becoming a Death Eater is probably reinforced everyday."

Draco's words echoed in her mind: "_That one word 'Slytherin' had enough power to decide our past, present, and future." Once the hat yelled out __'Slytherin' __our fates were sealed. We turned from innocent first year into students who are __'evil'__, __'full of dark magic'__, and '__those not to be dealt with.'"_

Even _Harry_, even the _one_ boy who loathed others buying into stereotypes about him had been successfully roped into that…

"Ha ha ha, can you imagine Malfoy falling in love with someone who's a half-blood or muggleborn and then changing himself," Ron was positively falling out of the booth, so hard he was laughing.

"The day that happens is the day…Snape decides to be nice to us" choked out Ron, still not fully recovered from whatever mysterious bout of laughter that had hit him.

"I don't think it's impossible but it'd take something…out of this world to make him change," Ginny said rather solemnly, " something pretty drastic, to breakthrough everything. I kind of feel sorry for him a way – he didn't really have much of a chance."

"Sorry for him?" Ron said incredulously. "_Sorry for him?_ His father put you through that hell your second year and you feel_ sorry for him._"

"It wasn't Malfoy that did that, it was his _father_" she responded hotly, "_The sins of my father are not my own._ Remember? I'm not defending what he's done to us, I'm not saying it was okay, but in terms of everything he's believed in, he's been taught that his whole life and to have parents like that, yes I do feel sorry for him."

"_He didn't have much of a chance._" She was right. Draco hadn't ever had much of a chance….a chance to decide for himself, a chance to live, a chance to have options…Ginny somehow had managed to hint at what Draco had told her in the Transfiguration stockroom. But now he had a chance…a chance she had given and shown him, a chance to change for the better…but would he take it? And how would she know that he truly had taken it? Would she have to believe his word that he was? Or would she have to see something in him change?

_But was that enough?_ He had changed. She had seen it – she had felt it. Felt it the night when he had apologized for calling her a Mudblood, today, when he had said he was sorry for everything he had put her through for seven years…and she wouldn't lie, even when he said those things, she had been surprised but still skeptical that he had really meant him, because what Ron had said was right – words in it of themselves are jack, unless they are backed up with actions.

And then she had felt it even before he had even said his apologies – the signs of him changing surfacing as she remembered the times in the hallways when he would see her and gently nod his head in a small greeting, though his face remained impassive, how tonight he had invited her in, treating her as an equal, speaking to her as though she were standing shoulder-to-shoulder with him as she deserved to be treated, and him opening up to her. What he had told her about how he had tried to be friends with Harry was a sign of trust…he trusted her, because _there was no way_, he could or _ever _would entrust someone with those details unless he did. But he probably didn't even _know_ he was feeling that way.

If he was Darcy…that would mean she was Elizabeth – did that mean then, as her mind strayed away of its own accord…_she would fall for Malfoy if he changed? _

Did she _like _him? She liked speaking to him, seeing him – somehow his company had grown on her, after their banter on Quidditch when she had seen a sign that she hadn't seen and found in an odd way...rather attractive. It was as though someone had lit a fire in her stomach, sending waves of heat and pleasure throughout her body, burning brightly while he was there, then slowly dying into grains of gray ashes when he left. How to interpret it, she didn't know, every time she met him, she felt a roar into her ears as everything else became unimportant and ceased to exist.

Yes, moments where he showed his childishness – like the one in Snape's storeroom - disappointed her and invariably felt like she had taken a couple steps back. For some reason, she felt gutted and rather forlorn when that happened and rather upbeat when it didn't.

Of course, she never got to experience many moments like that – once or twice a week…and every incident, left her wanting more, every minute spent in his company only making her appetite larger and larger, as though it could be fully quenched. He still angered and frustrated her but somehow it was different – she felt alive.

"Don't look so upset over it. Look, Hermione, we all know you like to believe in the inherent good of everybody but in some cases, it really just doesn't exist," Ron said, placing a hand on hers.

"_If only you knew,"_ she thought, but only smiling and merely taking another sip of her drink.

. & .

Not too many miles away, just on the opposite side of the castle, the boy consuming her thoughts was just returning to his quarters after a late night. Yawning, Draco twisted the doorknob to his room, fully intending to relax from a long evening of reading in a hot shower and then climb into bed. The evening had gone _decently_ well , though not as good as he would have hoped– for a few brief moments at a time he was able to forget about that girl, the way she felt against his hips, the feelings of her fingers in his hair, her warm breath tickling his ear, sending shivers down his spine even now, as he remembered it. Yet after those brief intervals, as his mind wandered back to that moment, the feelings he endured slammed into his gut harder and harder each time, the feeling of confusion and anxiety seizing more and more control over his nerves. As he closed the door behind him, a sudden, redundant harsh tapping noise reached his ears. It took a moment before it registered that the noise was coming from his window.

Turning to face the window, Draco felt his stomach plummet sharply and painfully, as though he had been suspended from a fifty-story building by a rope that had suddenly been let go. There was nothing unique about the owl that stood patiently outside the window weathering the pouring rain but there was no mistaking the deep green symbol emblazoned boldly and proudly on the crisp creamy envelope.

Hastily, Draco dropped his bag next to the door, taking no notice as all his books fell out, a bottle of ink shattering, decorating the glossy covers in jagged black lines. All feelings of sleepiness completely vanished as he made for the window. Upon opening it, he yanked the letter from the offending owl who let out a screech as his nail clipped a soft feather. Oblivious to the raindrops, which were now spraying into the room by the whipping wind and spotting his robe, he ripped the envelope open and threw it to the floor as he quickly opened the parchment, which was as always, neatly folded into thirds.

_Draco,_

_The Lord has expressed a wish to use you far sooner than he had expected or planned and made it clear that you be made notified of this as soon as possible. Your services will be used. You will be present at the Manor in two months. You will be pleased to serve him and live up to your standards of loyalty and the Malfoy family name._

_--Lucius Malfoy_

Seething with anger, Draco crumpled up the letter into a tightly wound ball crushing it in his fist for a split second, before veraciously unraveling it and then ripping it, ripping it until the parchment lay on the brocade carpet in thousands of pieces, the elegant handwriting now indecipherable and the emblem shorn in so many pieces it could never be pieced together again.

Shaking, he sat on the edge of the bed and buried his head in his hands. Bile began to rise in his throat, dangerously close to spilling over. Every line was an implicit order, veiled with presumptions and assumptions. _"You will be present." "You will be pleased." _Each line, stated as fact as though he were a mere robot, not a man made of flesh and blood, God-gifted with his own mind and emotions.

Letting out a loud and long yell, Draco punched the pillow next to him, the soft black satin crumpling around his harsh punch, the same feelings of despair and anger coming over him that he had been feeling the last two weeks. All because of that one girl. He had _never_ questioned his fathers letters, his fathers expectations of him, and now, now because of her, because of her words, because of her ideologies, he was no longer sure of what he wanted.

At this point, he didn't even know what was worse – not having a choice and not knowing that but not being forced to make a decision or having the option but not knowing what to do with it because either decision involved hurting and betraying someone.

It was true, before he didn't have a choice; he didn't see any other option left there for him, but…at least he had peace…didn't he? He didn't even know the answer to that question, he wasn't sure. He wasn't sure of anything anymore, this was the last straw. It seemed so long ago that he had felt so resolute in his beliefs, in his actions, in his words. But now…everything was falling away gently and smoothly gaining momentum with every passing second, like sand falling through a tightly clenched fist.

What infuriated him the most was that he could not hate her for the hell he was in right now. Not for lack of trying. Oh, he had _definitely_ tried to dissuade himself from believing anything she had said, definitely tried to suppress those sudden rush of feeling every time he saw her. No, that wasn't it at all – he couldn't. It was that every fucking word that came out of her mouth was _the truth_.

He had to get out. This room was starting to stifle him. Where he was going he didn't know, but he needed out of his room. He needed air, needed something, anything that could reinstate the look of familiarity.

Without another word, he turned on his heels, the sharp metal soles of his shoes digging mercilessly into the parchment, slowly grinding the shards of paper even deeper into the carpet where they lay shining ominously in the moonlight, motionless and silent.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

_Please REVIEW,_

_Till next time,_

_Cheers, _

_AM_


	6. Animadverto

_Title: Virtus et Iudicium _

_Author:_ Anjali Malfoy

_Rating:_ T

_Disclaimer:_ I do not in any way, shape, or form own Harry Potter or its characters.

_A/N: Once again, I would like to thank those special individuals to reviewed and make tbis story even more special. I would like to dedicate this chapter to __**IllusionofMagic**__ for being absolutely amazing and telling me both the strengths and weaknesses of this story and making this story even more special. _

**Chapter VI: ****Animadverto**

_"Quisquis vos puto per sensus fio vestri animadverto" -- Whatever you believe with feeling becomes your reality._

The girl in question was currently finishing the first part of her patrol.

"Ugh," said Harry, a disgusted look crossing his handsome face, as he surveyed his mud-soaked shoes and socks. "There's got to be _at least_ four inches of mud on my trousers. You would think they could spare us from patrolling outside on days like these."

"It'll only take a simple cleaning charm Harry," she laughed.

"It's the principle of the matter," though his smile betrayed his anger, " Well, now we just have the Towers to check. And it's already 11:30," he said glancing at his watch and stifling a yawn.

"It won't take more than twenty minutes," Hermione cajoled steering Harry towards the Slytherin towers.

They walked the corridors in silence, stopping briefly only to admonish several stragglers coming back from the library. As they turned the last corner, Hermione caught a flash of silver and green from the corner of her eye striding, almost running, at full speed towards the bathrooms.

"Harry, I caught someone out of bounds," she sighed, checking her watch, "You go on up, I'll come up in a few."

"No, we shouldn't separate," said Harry stifling a few yawns.

"You have detention in a couple hours. You need your rest. Go on." She nudged him towards the Towers with her elbow. "Besides it's only a two minute walk to the Head Tower. Stop worrying about me Harry, I'll be fine, I'm a big girl – I can take care of myself."

Harry opened his mouth to argue with her again but at the look on her face, he held up his hands in mock surrender before stalking off. For a few moments, she watched him leave just to make sure he was really leaving before approaching the bathroom.

Breathing hard, Draco yanked his sweater over his head and roughly loosened the tie around his neck not caring if the silk material ripped, as though the mere touch of fabric was enough to suffocate him. Turning around he steadied himself over the sink, arms clenched on either side of the marble sink, his chest heaving.

"Malfoy," a voice said behind him in wonder.

Her voice caused him to freeze, her presence only serving to make him even angrier if that was even possible, his reality suddenly becoming _painfully_ real as the sound of her voice. He slowly turned around.

Slowly shutting the door behind her, Hermione cautiously took a slow, small step into the bathroom, unsure if she should approach him.

"Malfoy?" she asked again, "What's going on? Why are you out so late?"

Hermione nearly fell backwards in shock at the look in his eyes when he swiftly turned around. Hatred and anger so intense, as she had never seen before in her life, were blazing in his eyes. She drank in his disheveled appearance - the dark circles under his eyes, his sweater thrown haphazardly on the floor under the sink, his slumped shoulders.

"What are you doing here Granger," he snapped. His lips curled into the most hideous and frightful sneer she had never laid eyes on, the sheer intensity of his gaze sending shivers down her spine. Part of her wanted to run but she squared her shoulders and stood her ground.

"Dammit Malfoy," she said irritably, her initial fear and compassion quickly turning into annoyance at his childish behavior, "I'm only trying to help."

"I don't need your help. Now go away," he snapped turning back to the mirror.

"Merlin Malfoy," she said, throwing her arms into the air, "I'm just trying to help."

"You've done enough of that," he snarled viciously, still facing the mirror. Hermione simply stared at him, in disbelief, wondering if this was really the same boy that was standing in front of her in Snape's darkened storeroom, apologizing for what he had done the last seven years. And now he was _lashing out at her? _

This boy never ceased to keep her on edge, he was as volatile as a can of gasoline next to a lit flame, the chance of it blowing up imminent yet unpredictable. But now, she was angry, angry at his attitude towards her, angry at his complete metamorphosis, making her unable to determine if he had actually changed or not.

"And what is _that_ supposed to mean?"

"You should know," his voice now oddly accusatory though for what she could not fathom why, "You know everything don't you." His question came out as more of a statement rather than a question, ashamed at his inability to keep the bitterness out of his voice.

Hermione gaped at him for a moment, unable to form a coherent retort at what appeared to be an utter lack of maturity.

"What is your damn problem Malfoy?"

"My problem, you want to know what problem is? My problem," he spat, swirling from the mirror to face her and pointing a long quivering finger at her, "is y_ou."_

"Me? " she cried in outrage, "_ME_?"

"Did you not just hear what I said Granger? Yes, Granger you," he repeated slowly as though he were talking to a petulant child, "_You_ are my damn problem."

"How am I your problem," Hermione cried stomping over to Draco , "What have I ever done to you?" she asked poking his chest with her finger.

"Oh would you _just_ give that a rest Granger," he snarled, shoving her finger aside and lightly massaging the swollen area.

"Give it a rest? You have the audacity to tell me that I am your problem and you expect me to _give it a _--uff," she mumbled as Draco shoved her into a wall and covered her mouth with her hand.

"Would you for once in your life, just _shut the hell up_," he said exasperatedly.

Hermione growled angrily against his hand. She reached up to punch him but he deftly caught her hands and held them above her head.

"Now this is much -- _ouch_," he yelled stumbling back, releasing his grip on her as Hermione's heel slammed into his toes. "You infernal woman," he snarled, rubbing the offending toes. Malfoy lowered his foot and gingerly put his weight on it, a satisfied looking crossing his face as he no longer felt any pain.

"Then don't you _dare_ blame me for whatever problems you're having," she hissed, her look of victory replaced with one of annoyance.

"And just why is it not your fault?" he countered. "For the last two weeks, ever since we got shoved together for this project you have been the bane of my existence."

"Oh that's priceless," she laughed loudly, the sarcasm practically dripping from her voice, even as she tried to push aside a thin sharp stabbing feeling of sadness and hurt at those words, "And how _exactly _have I -- "

"At first it was fine," he interrupted, turning his back towards her and beginning to pace up and down the marble floor not acknowledging her statement, "I hated your presence. Everything about you infuriated me. You make me feel rage like I never have felt before. Your mere presence -the way you walked, the way you talked, the way no one could say anything that ever bothered you or threw you out of your stride. Your insufferable-know-it-all behavior. Your lack of respect for any authority. _Everything_ about you angered me."

But then, then" he faltered. His voice lowered slightly as he began laughing to himself. Hermione closed her mouth, becoming slightly worried and more than a little scared by his change in behavior. "But then you began haunting me."

For the first time in her life, Hermione was left speechless.

"You cannot imagine a worse feeling that one of your worst enemies, though" he paused gazing thoughtfully off in the distance, "whatever enmity we had _is_ rather small in the grand scheme of things, but regardless, one of your former greatest enemies, managing to," he paused again as though deciding whether or not to continue, his eyes staring now blankly at Hermione, "change you. It is the utmost feeling of shame, of weakness, of...failure."

" I can't think, I can't sleep, I can't eat. I just," he faltered turning away from Hermione to gaze hard at the stars as though the answer lay among them, clenching his fists and screwing his face up, "can't do anything without thinking about what you have said and I_ bloody hate it_. It's driving me mad and I cannot take much more of it."

"You don't understand what you have just managed to do to me in these last two weeks do you Granger?" he hissed swiftly turning back to look at her. The look in his eyes was so haunting, Hermione actually felt scared and unconsciously took a small step back. "I've lived 17 years of my life, knowing what to believe, what to think, and how to act. But now I just don't know. _I just do not know. _I don't know what to believe. I'm in over my head and I don't know how to get out because I am _being ripped apart _by two opposite sides. Is that what you wanted to hear? That you managed to get to me? Well you did it. Do you have _any_ idea what it's like clinging by the very tips of your fingernails trying to grasp to any remaining shred of existence?" He held his hands in front of face, staring at them, for a brief few moments.

"It's goes back to 'perceived power' Granger," he said, letting his arms fall by his side, " Power itself is not important. It all lies in the illusion, how we choose to feel and what we choose to believe. Whether or not I have power or not, it all lies in my perception of whether I have the power. Power is currency in this world. Without it, you have nothing. I had this perceived power a mere three weeks ago. But now all I am left with is _turmoil_ - that _you've_ cursed me with."

Hermione was thrown by the sheer fury, helplessness, and raw passion in Malfoy' s voice. But there was something else, laced delicately underneath - fear. Fear of the unknown. Fear of what to believe. Fear to what to think and how to feel.

She was staring at him in wonder. It was only then it hit her; she had done the impossible: she had broken Draco Malfoy. Standing in front of her was a shell of what used to be 'Draco Malfoy'. Yes, he was still proud, rough, powerful and Merlin, had _more_ than enough flaws to anger her more than anyone else could...yet here he was, all his defenses stripped, lying in shattered pieces around him, standing naked in front of her, all for her to see like a broken angel. Nervously, she licked her lips, her trembling tongue flitting over her dry mouth, unsure of what to say. _What could she say? _

In that moment, he didn't know what came over him. Even later he would never know how to fully explain what had come over him. But that night, as he glared at her defiantly, standing tall and proud, as though daring her to judge him, he suddenly felt the urge to hold her. To touch her. It hit him powerfully in the gut, as though a Bludger had just rammed into his abdomen.

Before she had a chance to respond, Malfoy had closed the gap between them. Her breath caught in her throat. He was staring at her, not with the anger, helplessness, and fear he had directed towards her earlier. It was an emotion she had never seen before. It was though she was naked and he was seeing right through her, straight to her soul. A burning question lay hidden in those depths. He wanted to ask her something, wanted her to say something, wanted to hear something….

In that one moment, it hit her that there was no one but him and her, alone in this room. No one left awake in the castle. It unnerved her, but at the same time was oddly enthralling. But before she could speak, her back was against the wall.

"How does it feel Granger?" he asked softly, all trace of malice now gone from his voice. He held her at arm's length, her hands resting gently yet firmly on her shoulders. "How does it feel to be...completely powerless?"

Hermione merely bowed her head, desperately looking everywhere but his face. Something told her that if she did, all her defenses would crumble. Defenses she had carefully and expertly put up.

"You didn't answer my question Granger," he whispered hoarsely taking a small step closer to her, "How does it feel to be utterly powerless?"

_Silence. _

"Do you finally have an idea about what you do to me?" he whispered gently, slowly running his finger down her cheek, "That's exactly how you make me feel. Powerless."

_Oh God, no. _Hermione drew her breath in sharply. Malfoy was charting onto dangerous territory now. She was sure of it. She had to stop this before she did anything she would regret.

"Malfoy," she breathed. "What are you -"

"Shhh." He had placed his finger over her mouth. "For once in your life, for just _once_ in your life, you need to stop fighting Granger."

Her breath caught in her throat as he moved yet another step closer, her heart beating faster of its own accord. His six foot two inch frame towered over her five foot five inch body. She flattened her body against the wall, desperate for any space between them, her eyes darting for any escape passage.

"Don't think I don't know what you're trying to do," he whispered in her ear.

His breath sent shivers down her spine.

"Malfoy," she whispered lifting her fists and shoving them into his chest, pushing to create space.

"Stop." He grasped her wrists and in one fluid movement, lifted them above her head. He closed the remaining gap between them. She was trembling all over. She could feel his body heat radiating from his core, warming her body as she stood, pressed to the cold marble.

"Look at me," he breathed.

When she resisted, he gently titled her chin up so he could see her face. He could tell she was fighting hard to stay afloat. Her tenacity could only make him smile but simultaneously steeled his resolve to make her cave in. Her jaw was clenched tightly and her eyes were closed. Her mouth was open a little, her tongue darting out to moisten her chapped lips. Just that small gesture was enough to send a jolt through her body.

She looked beautiful.

Still holding her hands above her head, he gently traced her jaw-line and then ran a finger over her lips, as though trying to memorize its every curve and texture before reaching up and undoing her hair. Hermione gasped as her hair cascaded down her back and shoulders in hazel waves. He let go of her wrists but immediately intertwined his fingers with his before pressing her hands against the wall.

"Look at me," he repeated more urgently, leaning in close enough that his body pressed against hers.

At the touch of his body against hers, her body began acting autonomously, as though her mind didn't exist. Unable to control herself anymore, she opened her eyes.

She wished she hadn't. The moonlight was shining into the slanted window, falling onto his face, illuminating the strands of golden hair falling like a curtain over his forehead. He looked like an angel. He was standing so close she could see the flecks of blue in his grey eyes, eyes that were searching hers as though hoping to find the answer to all his problems there.

His eyes still pinned on hers, he lowered his face towards. Her eyes closed once more, her body shivering as he encircled her waist with his hands, simultaneously pulling her closer. She could feel his warm breathe on her lips. Unconsciously, she leaned closer, running her arms up his chest and before interlocking them around his neck.

She felt his lips on her cheek. And then it hit her. Fear. It was only know that she felt what Malfoy had been talking about. She was at the edge of a cliff...and about to take the leap. There would be no turning back after this point. No going back.

It was then that she realized what she was doing...and who she was with. Realization hit her like the force of a hammer on a nail. Sudden, swift, and irreversible. With a force she didn't know she had, she shoved him away, scrambling back hastily needing to put as much distance between them as possible.

"No, don't speak," she said quickly as he opened his mouth, " I can't," she said hastily raising her hand to her mouth, backing away. Tears threatened to fall. "I just can't."

Turning around, she ran for the door. She had to get out of there. Malfoy's actions…..actions her body had responded to of their accord. Bile was beginning to rise in her throat. Her own guilt was beginning to stifle her, slowly going stronger with every second, forming a box around her and slowly closing in, circling her, like a shark circling its prey, slowly coming closer with each advancing second.

She stopped before the door and slowly turned around. What she saw made her heart ache. Draco stood rooted there in the back of the room, exactly where she had left him, his eyes staring at the wall she had just stood against. His hand lifted to gently outline what she figured to be her figure, a gesture that tore at her heart.

He slowly turned around as she began speaking, her voice echoing throughout the empty room.

"I didn't say any of those things to hurt you. If it is any consolation, what you told me that day in Transfiguration shattered my beliefs just as much. I thank you for it. You've broadened my horizons and I …."she faltered, "I think you've changed me too."

Draco didn't say anything. He didn't even turn to face her. He stood there, his back unmoving at the slab of marble in front of him.

"And, don't you realize, you had no power until now," she said thickly, trudging through the harsh silence and unspoken words that lay between them " You were taught what to think before you even knew what the options were. You were taught how to feel and believe and act. Where was your power to choose? You have power now. To choose between multiple options. _That's_ what power truly is," she whispered before running out of the bathroom and into the dark corridor, unable to stay there any longer.

. & .

Hermione tore through the corridors as though Lord Voldemort himself was after her. She didn't stop running until she practically ripped through the portrait itself, bolting it behind her, running into her room and slamming it shut behind her before collapsing face down on her bed, thankful that Harry was sound asleep in his room. She lay for a few moments, taking deep breaths trying to steady herself. She rolled over and sat up to stare at herself in the mirror. The moon was shining through the window, falling in slanted beams across her bed. Part of her face was illuminated, the other half hidden in the dark shadows.

She couldn't stand to look at herself. Everything that happened that night came rushing to the front of her mind even as she tried to repress them. His words, his confessions, his accusations. Then him pushing her against the wall, the touch of his skin on hers, the feeling of his skin on hers like silk on satin, him asking her to open her eyes, how his touch led her to lose control....

And then he had nearly kissed her....and she had nearly kissed him back. A tear rolled down her cheek.

Why had this happened? How could she have lost so much control over her body and mind?

Worst of all, she had no one to talk to. She was all alone in the treacherous game of love and betrayal. Ginny and Harry were the last people she could talk about this. As for any other Gryffindors, the moment she mentioned he was a Slytherin...they would assume the worst and not hear any further. _"You were right Draco, you were right about all of us." _She had to figure this mess she had created all by herself. It was too much. Hugging her pillow tightly to her chest as though it would provide her comfort, overcome with sheer exhaustion and helplessness, she let her tears fall. Tears for herself, tears for Draco, but most of all, tears for what she wanted deep down but couldn't bring herself to admit. Tears for what she knew she couldn't have.

How long she sat like that, she didn't know. Her eyes were bloodshot and red from her tears. She ran her slightly-trembling fingers over her lips. They still tingled from his touch. The smell of men's cologne - his cologne- and wood polish still lingered on her robes. Hastily, she yanked them over her shoulders and threw them as hard as she could aimlessly into the darkness of her room. Far away, out of her sight. Out of her mind.

Having thoughts was one thing, acting upon them was another. Thoughts, while vile and capable of planting poisonous seeds remained innocuous and harmless as long as they didn't take seed. It was true, Hermione had been feeling more than friendship for Malfoy ever since their talk in the Transfiguration storeroom, but that's all they had been -- thoughts. Until tonight. She had opened Pandora's box, unleashing years of suppressed feelings and it couldn't be shut now.

And then Ron. The tears came faster, fell harder, her shoulders shaking with racking sobs, her tears cascading down her cheeks and splashing onto her pillow. Right now Ron was sound asleep in Gryffindor Tower, innocent and unaware of what had just happened on the other side of the castle.

Yes, Draco had been the one to start it. He'd shoved her against that damned wall, for Merlin's sake. _"But you didn't do anything to stop him." _He began touching me all over. _"And you liked it." _He forced me to look at him. _"But you lost control. He got to you and you let him." _He was the one who tried to kiss you. _"And you nearly kissed him back." _

Rolling over, she buried her face into her pillow and screamed before rolling back over to lie on her bed, holding the pillow to her chest.

It wasn't that leaving Ron wasn't an option - leaving Ron for someone like Draco wasn't an option. To leave Ron for Draco would be the stupidest mistake she could ever make. There was no future for them. They came from two very different paths of life, one raised in the riches of mansion, the other in a modest humble home, one the prized son of one of the wealthiest families, the other the daughter of a respected but unknown household, their paths only crossing in Hogwarts. That was where a mutual respect had been born, and this was where it would have to die. In a few short months, they would be in a world where nothing but animosity and hatred could be felt for each other.

Her 'relationship' with him would have to bow down before the burden of friendship, the burden of respect, but most of all before the burden of reality. Reality was a harsh mistress. It taught you lessons you didn't want to learn, showed you things you didn't want to see, all the while leaving you with scars so deep they could never fully heal. They served as a constant reminder, a test of strength and courage.

She would have to let him go.

And Ron. Ron was a good man who loved and cared deeply for her. For her to give him up for something she could see no future and no support for was futile. It wasn't fair to either her, Draco, or Ron. There was one option left - she had to work at her relationship with Ron. She had to try, had to work to give their relationship a future.

How long she lay there staring at the ceiling she did not know. It felt like eternity, stewing in her guilt for what had happened that night, and for her undeniable desire for it to happen again.

She and Ron could move past tonight, she could forget everything that happened, she could pretend like it never happened...

Tears welled up in her eyes , for even as she tried with all her might, she knew it deep down...she didn't know _how_, she didn't know _when_….but _somehow_

She had fallen _hard _for Draco Malfoy.

. & .

Draco was sitting down on the floor of the bathroom, his back resting against the marble walls, arms wrapped around his knees. Emotions were coursing through him like the angry waves of the ocean, roughly splashing over rocks, relentlessly breaking and shattering everything in its wake. How long he had been sitting in the darkness he didn't know.

He let his head fall back against the wall and closed his eyes. Weariness and exhaustion were coming over him.

Even now he didn't know what had come over him. He still not could explain his sudden urge to hold or touch her. In all this mess and chaos, he only knew one thing. He wanted Granger. There was something about her that made him feel alive, gave him the possibility for a new future, and new resurgence and vitality.

Granger had wanted him as much he had wanted her, he was sure of it. What he wasn't sure of was why she had run out at the last moment. He knew very well she was dating Ron but he also knew after this night that she didn't love him. The mere thought of Ron touching her made him see red. His fists clenched and his breathing became heavier as rage coursed through him.

Every moment with her made him feel alive, even their fights. It was as though every part of him had woken up, he could feel rage so powerful that he had never felt before but also peace like he had never known. She was the only one who could do that to him. He knew he had the same affect on her. He knew his mere presence was enough to make her crazy but like tonight, he also knew his presence was enough to make her cave. He knew she could do it to him and only he could do it to her, and he knew she saw it too.

After tonight, he was only more determined to get her, to force her to admit that she saw it too. There was only one explanation: she was...she belonged to him.

He knew he was fighting reality if he pursued her. Reality in that any relationship between them wouldn't be supported or rarely accepted. Reality in that the chances of them separating to fight for different sides in a few months was high.

But he also knew that he could change it, mold it to fit their desires. Realizing reality was one thing, but accepting it was another, and he was not one to accept reality without a fight. He had a choice - she had taught him that. He could accept the forces that stood between him and her, or he could take a stand and fight them. To merely accept what was in store for him and Granger was a choice in it of itself - a coward's choice. To give in was the utmost symbol of failure and cowardice.

He would fight for her, fight _whatever_ forces that lay between them, so he could know that if this did not work, he wouldn't be tormented by what could have happened; that was the biggest reward he was attain - peace. He would be fighting Hermione herself -- if he knew her, she would be siding with reality and deciding that there was no future for them. Either way, he would know that he had tried his hardest, and that was the most anyone could ask for. But more than anything, it wouldn't be wrong for him to argue that fighting was a mark of courage.

It also wouldn't be wrong for him to say that during these two weeks, in the process of all their fights and talks, he didn't know how, he didn't know when, but he had somehow fallen for Hermione Granger.

_Shit._

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

_Please REVIEW! _

_Until next time,_

_Cheers, AM_


	7. Indifferens

_Title: _Virtus et Iudicium

_Author:_ Anjali Malfoy

_Rating:_ T

_Disclaimer:_ I do not in any way, shape, or form own Harry Potter or its characters.

_A/N: First of all, I was rather overwhelmed by the increase in response to this story because of the last chapter. I'm super excited and encouraged by how many of you have said their characters are totally in sync with those of the book. That was my main goal and is probably why the reason they have come together is not as exciting and AU as some other ideas out there. But to me, this is most realistic. _

_On another note, I was rather happy how my other Draco/Hermione story under this penname: __**Seeds of Seduction**__ has gotten more popularity because of this story! I personally feel like this story is written better though the idea of that one is probably a little sexier! _

_If any of you wish to read any other Draco/Hermione stories by me, I have another one written under a different penname: __**AnjaliPotter**__, though it was written several years ago, and the different in writing quality might be noticeable. But I may end up taking them down and re-writing them if time permits because I love those ideas!_

_On another note, I did pass physics at Stanford and so I now have more time to dedicate to this story, which I am rather excited about. I do head back to college in three weeks and this story will be done before then. On a general look, I'm predicting this story to have approximately 14-15 chapters but you never know. _

_Anyways, I hope this chapter lives up to your expectations and as usual, thanks to all my reviewers! _

**Chapter VII: Indifferens**

_"Adversus of diligo est non contemno. It's indifferens. " -- The opposite of love is not hate. It's indifference. _

Hermione stood on the balcony of the Astronomy Tower. It was past two a.m. Her plan wasn't working. It was failing. _Miserably_. Forgetting about him was not as easy as she thought it would be. Her sleep was just as wretched as when she was awake.

This was the fourth night in a row that she had not been able to fall asleep without a Sleeping Potion. Madam Pomfrey was already suspicious because she had asked for a weeks supply of sleeping potions but she had only given her one so she was out of options as far as inducing sleep using artificial means was concerned. And even when she got those few moments of sleep, all she could think about was him. To compound matters, Harry and Ron were worried and constantly getting on her case because she had been zoning off in class.

She couldn't understand why she couldn't fall asleep, she was so tired, so drained both emotionally and physically, just so frustrated. The only bright light in this matters is that she had gotten all her crying out of her system. She could now look at him without wanting to cry. She snorted derisively, shaking her head in disbelief. Like _that _was a fantastic improvement. It hadn't yet registered what position she was in right now.

As far as she and Ron were concerned, she was failing at improving their relationship. She was just trying to hold on to whatever they had but she just _couldn't_ keep up with with him. It was taking too much out of her, physically and emotionally. Every time she was with him, she remembered Malfoy and was consumed with guilt and anxiety.

That night she had been tossing and turning for a good two hours before she angrily threw on her robe over her pajamas and stomped over to the damn tower. She needed some fresh hair. She groaned and buried her face in her hands. This needed to stop, this was completely getting out of hand. Nothing physical….well specifically, they hadn't kissed - had even happened between her and Malfoy. Sure, it had gotten very, very close but still dammit- they hadn't kissed. She shouldn't even be feeling this way, she was with a man who loved her.

She knew Malfoy wanted to speak to her. She could tell he wasn't angry about the way she had reacted that night. He wasn't making it obvious. No, Malfoy was like an animal, an animal who studied his prey, watching her every move, calculating and planning, just waiting for the perfect moment to strike. She was constantly on edge, jumping anytime someone emerged from a hidden shadow, yelping when someone put a hand on her shoulder, and when she realized it wasn't him, left her exhausted and drained from sheer relief.

So here she was now, alone on the Astronomy Tower, her elbows perched on the ledge of the balcony, staring into the night sky, utterly and hopelessly miserable, and thinking just how perfectly - in a twisted way - the darkness around her mirrored her soul. A twisted smile crossed her face, before she dropped her face into her hands and yelled.

"God, Hermione, why have you gotten yourself into this mess? What were you thinking?" she groaned, banging her head against her hands, hoping that the repeated blows to her head might induce some sanity that had clearly deserted her the past couple days.

"You have heard, Granger, that talking to yourself is what most educated men and women deem to be the first indication of insanity, have you not?" a voice behind her said.

Hermione yelped and turned around only to come face to face with the very man she had been trying to avoid for the last five days. Draco Malfoy leaned casually against the wall. His hands were buried the pockets of his pants and his face had his classic smirk. She felt her face burn up from both her embarrassment and dear Merlin, just his presence.

"How did you know I would be here?" she demanded. She was suspicious. The only way he could have known would be the Marauder's map. She had been using the map to avoid him at all costs.

With a rush of horror, she remember she had left it charmed inside of her Transfiguration book, which...she had stupidly given him in class yesterday and left class as fast as possible so as to avoid him that she forgot to get it back. _Fuck_. Hermione rarely swore unless the occasion warranted it, and she believed this nightmare she was in _more_ than adequately qualified. She felt her heart begin to beat faster and faster until she was sure he could hear it himself.

"I take it you have realized how I knew you were here," Draco said, noticing the look of horror cross her face. He reached into his back pocket and began waiving the offending object tauntingly in front of her face.

Hermione stepped forward and grabbed for the parchment but Draco, gifted with those "damn Seeker skills", lithely stepped out of her way.

"When you're done acting uncivilized," he said ignoring her snarl and pocketing the map "we can talk."

"We have nothing to talk about," she snapped, attempting to shove by him, needing to get out before any remaining resistance crumbled, but he swiftly stepped in front of the door, blocking the only escape round.

"Argh," yelled Hermione. She threw her arms up in frustration, "What do you want with me, Malfoy?"

"Make this simple for both of us and just drop the act Granger. Stop acting as though you hate being in here with me." How he was managing to act normal was beyond her comprehension.

"Don't flatter yourself Malfoy. I hate you, more than you know," snapped Hermione, her eyes flashing. Her initial shock and fear was starting to give way to anger and annoyance.

"Hatred huh," said Draco silkily pushing him off the door. He took one step towards her.

"Yes, Malfoy. _Hatred_. Don't you remember what it means from the last thousand times I've said that or has your brain stopped working in this cold?" His advances had not escaped her keen eye.

"Hatred. That doesn't mean you're indifferent to me now does it?" It was then that she saw the first sign that he had not indeed forgot what had happened between them. She gulped nervously as she saw that while his face wore a smirk, his eyes were serious. He smirked and took another step.

"Don't get all philosophical on me Malfoy," spat Hermione, recovering from her shock just in time. This time Hermione countered his action with her own step back.

"And why should I? Does it render all your arguments unworthy?" He moved one more step closer.

"No," she said defiantly." What's wrong Malfoy? You have to resort to others' words now, since yours are so pathetic?" She lightly tilted her head and glanced behind her. She was nearly against the railing.

He chose to ignore her insult. "Then what it is about my words that makes you so nervous. Pray, enlighten me." He moved yet another step closer.

"Nervous! Don't you dare for even one second think that you make me nervous you arrogant self-centered jerk," she hissed. She was against the railing of the tower.

Malfoy stood across from her. "Then how do I make you feel?"

"Isn't it clear you stupid prat? You make me angry and frustrated. I want to hex to you until there is nothing left until you can't smirk anymore," Hermione was rambling, she was so angry. Her insults seemed to be bouncing right off that self-assured, calm prick and it only infuriated her. He loved it when she got mad. All her passion showed and it only made him want her more.

"Is that so?"

He was right in front of her now. Her breath caught in her throat. She could feel his heat, his scent radiating off him. A groan threatened to escape her lips as he leaned forward and his body slightly pressed into hers but she clamped her mouth shut and pressed down tight as though her life depended on it. It had been five days since she had been this close to him, five days since she had felt alive, five days since she had felt at home. Her facade threatening to crumble, she shifted to right. His right arm blocked her escape. She moved to the left, but his left arm trapped her. She was effectively pinned to the railing.

"Malfoy, let me out." Her voice had a slight tremor. He could see that her willpower was wavering.

"That's out of the question Granger. I make you angry, frustrated to the point where you would like nothing more than to hex me senseless. Let's keep going, shall we?"

The gentle wind was blowing her hair into her face. Gently, he reached up and moved the offending article from her face. He felt her draw in a sharp breath as he tucked it behind her ear. She was staring at him. Her hazel eyes were full of wonder, but underneath he could see pure, raw unadulterated fear. She flinched as he lifted one hand up and brought it to her face. His finger traced down her cheek as he leaned it.

"Tell me Hermione," he breathed into her ear, "How else do I make you feel?"

She closed her eyes. She couldn't take much more of this.

"Tell me," he murmured, his finger going lower to caress her waist. He was nuzzling her ear.

Hermione couldn't breathe. Her head had fallen back of her own accord. Her body was acting on its own. Her mind was screaming for her to stop but everywhere Malfoy touched, he left a burning trail, leaving her asking for more. Draco leaned back, still keeping his lower body attached to hers and drew in a breathe in awe. Hermione's head was bent back in abandonment, her hair splayed over the railing and shoulders. Her neck lay exposed to him, her chest slightly heaving. Her hands lay clutched for dear life to the bars of railing.

She shouldn't contain it anymore. A long moan escaped her lips as Draco leaned in once more, this time his lips hovering about her neck, not touching. The feel of his breath on her skin, his left hand gently unfastened her right hand and placing it over his shoulder, was too much for her to handle. Her right hand went around his waist, as his right hand caressed her waist, running up and down her side.

"Draco," his name escaped her lips before she could contain herself.

"Yes," he murmured laying a row of feather kisses down her throat.

"I...I ..." her sentence ended in a moan as his right hand softly gripped her waist.

"Tell me what you want," he whispered as his left hand slipped lightly under her shirt. It was as though her body was separated from her head as she arched into his touch, pressing herself into Draco. Her head was telling her to stop. Another moan left her mouth as he gently bit down on her left ear, his hands still caressing her waist.

Hearing and seeing no protest, Draco kissed down her neck, stopping at the point where her shirt began before slowly unbuttoning the first button. As the wind hit the newly exposed skin, it seemed to give Hermione new life. Draco groaned as her hands slipped under his shirt, her fingers drawing circles. All of Draco's self-control snapped. Dragging his mouth away from her neck, he kissed her.

Hermione left out a moan as she felt his lips meet hers. His lips were soft, yet firm, probing, his tongue begging for entrance. Hermione opened her mouth, granting access, their tongues dueling for dominance. Through heavily-lidded eyes she met his. Full of admiration, full of want, full of need, and an emotion she could not place. Reaching up on her tiptoes and wrapping her arms around his neck, she kissed him harder, her hips pressing into his. She felt Draco firmly grasp her hips and turn her away from the railing before walking her backward, lifting her effortlessly and placing her on the ledge before stepping in between her legs.

She couldn't think. Unlike before, his touch didn't scare her. It felt forbidden, wrong, so wanton, and yet so fulfilling and enthralling. All she could feel was the feeling of his lips on hers, the feeling of his fingers on her waist, before laying her down on the ledge and placing his hand under head head as a cushion before hovering over her. She gasped as the cold marble hit her back, but the touch of his lips on hers ignited her core, leaving a hot trail behind, like the embers from a recently extinguished fire.

Trailing a line of kisses down her neck, he caressed the skin under her nightgown with his right hand and leaned back to just admire her before kissing her again. The moonlight fell across the tower, illuminating her hair, which lay like a halo around her head. Her eyes shone as she looked at him, only fueling his desire.

"Draco," she whispered between deep breaths, but he cut her off.

"Shh," he murmured breathing heavily and then comfortingly kissing her forehead, regaining his breath, "Don't talk. Just feel."

Breathing deeply so as to steady herself, she pulled Draco down until he lay on top of her, but shifting to his side so as to not hurt her.

"I just want to hold you," he whispered softly, cupping her face in his hand and shifting so he lay on his side and her nestled between his arms, "Just let me hold you."

Wrapped in his arms, as her breathing slowed and became steady, for the first time in a long time, Hermione fell into a peaceful sleep.

Right next to her, Draco kissed her forehead softly and simply watched her sleeping figure in the moonlight before laying his head next to his Gryffindor.

His angel.

. & .

"Shut the curtains Ron," Hermione mumbled sleepily as the first weak ray of sun from dawn hit her in the eyes, turning so her face buried into Draco's chest sighing in satisfaction. "Ron?" she asked again when he didn't respond, slowing getting up and rolling over to her side, wincing at the ache from flesh lying against hard marble.

It took her a moment to adjust to the sun. The balcony which had seemed so cold and haunting last night was bathed in the early morning's golden sunlight. A light yet cold wind was whipping through the balcony. Squinting, she looked to her right and blanched as she caught sight of Draco, still asleep next to her.

Her hands running through his blond hair. His fingers against her body. His lips against her. Her pulling him on top of her.

Then, in that split second she remembered everything, realization shattering like glass shards through her mind, the full force of the implications slamming her in the stomach... _No. No, it had happened._

In that very moment, words failed her, as the full impact of what she had done flooded through her, sweeping through her like the icy ocean...

"Oh God, what have I done?" she asked in a horrified whisper, and she was too afraid of the answer.

Roughly shoving his arm off her waist, she shoved open the door, and ran, not looking back.

The burst of wind from the door jolted Draco out of his sleep, for as soon as it hit him, he woke up to see the flash of crimson from her nightgown slip past the door.

She had left him.

"Fuck," he swore, running down the stairs, looking left and right.

Coming to a quick halt, he looked frantically around him, scanning the halls for any sign that Hermione had just been there. There was none. The halls lay silent, untouched as though no one had traversed them. Neither passageway yielded any hint as to which way she had gone. The dimly lit passageways were empty, the only movement coming from the flickering light from the torches position in their stone holders.

"Damn, damn, damn," he swore, his mind racking for a quick solution. He pulled at his hair with his fingers, looking every which way frantically looking for such a sign, any sign to help him know where she had gone, but finally ran down the corridor to his left towards the Head Towers. His footsteps thudded rhythmically on the stone floor, only ceasing for brief moments when he was hastily pulling back curtains shielding small rooms or closets. It flitted in the very back of his mind just how thankful he was that no one was awake.

Only when he arrived in front of the tower breathless and frantic, did he realize that there way no way he could get in. The chances of Potter coming to answer the door would be much too high - he knew Hermione wouldn't open the door. That would make his chances with Hermione which were already virtually none, to impossible.

Turning around, he slammed his fist into the wall in frustration and yelled in despair and anger.

He needed to speak to her.

This was going to be harder than he thought.

_Much, much harder._

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

_Please REVIEW! _

_Until next time,_

_Cheers, AM_


	8. Orexis

_Title: _Virtus et Iudicium

_Author:_ Anjali Malfoy

_Rating:_ T

_Disclaimer:_ I do not in any way, shape, or form own Harry Potter or its characters.

_A/N: Once again, thanks to the massive response to this story! Thanks for the big **100** reviews – that made me rather excited!_

**_Rozanya_**_:__ I'm so glad you liked this story – and I'm glad you want to read **Pride and Prejudice**! It's a brilliant story and if you don't want to read the whole thing (because I rarely find books that I love to read), I totally recommend the movie – not the one with Keira Knightly. It's a BBC version and has Colin Firth and Jennifer Ehle, and it 6 hours long (yeah, I know) and is the best rendition I have ever seen, and I highly recommend it._

**_Kayin_**_: __That was super sweet and yeah, I'd love to talk to you about this and such either online or in person! I love discussing character development etc especially about books I love aka Harry Potter._

**_Obsessivepottercullendisorder:_**_ I'm not sure who your friend is – but tell him/her thank you for me! That was very sweet. _

**_Ebm56_**_:_ Haha, that was super sweet and definitely an ego booster– but I ain't a genius for taking physics there. Glad you're loving this story!

_Now on with the story..._

**Chapter VIII: ****Orexis**

_"Amor animi arbitrio sumitur, non ponitur" -- We choose to love, we do not choose to cease loving._

"Miss Granger, " Snape said as he swept by her desk, "are you attempting to make enough Wolfsbane Potion to feed the _entire_ werewolf population?" he asked, nodding at the pile of wings she had neatly stacked on her desk with a modicum of disdain.

Hermione flushed in embarrassment, the pink color growing darker under his severe gaze. "No sir," she said quickly, " the manual said we needed an aliquot of wings. I merely took a few extra just in case I needed a few more or messed up."

"Well your '_extra'_ was enough to rid the stockroom of its supply." He shifted his gaze from her as he briefly surveyed the room, his cool gaze sweeping over the room like a calm wave gently sliding over sand, sharply noting what stage each student was at in their potion. "Miss Granger, though there are some students in here who I would _dearly_ love to fail," his gaze sweeping over Harry, " I suggest you give your remaining butterfly wings to Mr. Malfoy, since you are the only one who is past the step requiring the use of this ingredient."

She was vaguely aware that next to her, Harry and Ron had naturally looked up from their cauldrons at Snape's arrival and were watching their exchange. Both were wearing identical expressions of loathing and disgust on their faces. Harry's lip curled in anger and disdain as Snape's gaze swept over him. Ron on the other hand looked like he would like nothing more than to hex him. If looks could kill, Snape would be lying in a pile of smoldering ashes at their feet.

"Malfoy?" she squeaked. Her grip around her knife became so tight, the white color of her knuckles were clearly visible even in the hazy colored smoke created by the potions.

Panic and fear spread throughout Hermione like water permeating through a paper towel, soaking each and every fibre, until no more could be soaked, leaving a mess behind. She closed her eyes unaware of Harry's curious gaze.

If she thought she was in hell last week, it was _nothing_ compared to what she was experiencing now. She hated what emotions he still managed to bring up in her - desire, fear, and anger. It was getting harder and harder for her to cover up her emotions and to lie to Harry and Ron. The guilt she felt when she was with Ron was becoming unbearable. It was eating at her, little by little, like a parasite slowly feasting on her despair and sorrow. Every time they were together, part of her just wanted to tell him what had happened but at the moment she would falter. She couldn't bring herself to shatter the look of happiness on his face and love so clearly shown in his eyes. If he wasn't so good to her, this would have been easy, she wouldn't be feeling so sick, so overwhelmed. His goodness and obvious love for her only served to make her feel worse than ever.

They hadn't said anything, it had only been three days. But even deep down she knew her behavior looked bizarre. She was spending more and more time in her room in the comfort of her bed, not coming out unless it was time for classes or meals. She had overslept her patrolling duties the last three days. Her predicament was certainly not helped by the fact that she lived with Harry. The looks he had been giving her were unnerving, as though he could see something she wasn't able to.

The universe was working against her. Every natural force out there was working against her. There could be no other plausible explanation. Twice in the last three days _alone_, she had somehow found herself alone with him in a dark corridor and both times he had managed to corner her. Luckily, someone had come both times and he had been forced to let her go. She'd scurry away like a helpless prey that its merciless captive had let go out of a moment of weakness. She could still feel his gaze on her back, burning through her like a spark hitting a piece of parchment, burning its way through each and every fibre, until nothing but a gaping hollow wound remained.

She knew what he was up to. Avoiding him had been the hardest thing she had had to do in her life. She could feel his gaze on her periodically throughout class, but she'd resolutely stared in front of her, forcing her gaze to stay on the blackboard. Those eyes were all she could see when she closed her eyes. Haunted, pleading, anger, but underneath it all, determination. But when he looked away, those emotions were wiped clean, like chalk on a clean state, swiftly and effortlessly removed with a swipe of the eraser, leaving no indication anything had been written there.

"Are you waiting for something Miss Granger?" Professor Snape's brusque voice cut into her thoughts like a sharp saw into a slab of wood.

"No Sir," she mumbled. She could feel Harry's gaze on her every move, as though she were a struggling insect under a microscope, helpless and trapped, each her action and emotion magnified tenfold, transparent for him to see and interpret.

"Well then, get a move on Miss Granger. Mr. Malfoy doesn't have all day."

Harry was still critically watching her, his eyebrows furrowed in deep concentration as she gathered the wings slowly into the palm of her hand before approaching him. He continued to watch her closely as she walked to where Malfoy stood in the opposite corner of the dungeon, his back to them, furiously and feverishly working over his cauldron. Malfoy turned around as she approached him. His gaze never left hers as she stood awkwardly across his table, looking everywhere around the cramped dungeon but him. He could see the nervousness written across her face even through the thick gray fumes emanating from the cauldron.

"Here are your wings," she said hastily, dumping the wings next to his smoking cauldron, desperate to leave as fast as possible.

"Granger, you knocked all the wings off my desk," Draco's voice said loudly behind her.

Hermione swirled around, staring at Draco in shock. The wings she had placed on his desk were now scattered messily around his desk.

"I did not," she whispered furiously, glancing around her quickly to make sure that no one was watching or hearing them. Her eyes caught Harry's and held them for a brief moment before he dropped his gaze. Turning her attention back to Malfoy, she balled her hands into fists by her side. "You know very well that --"

"Do you want really me to tell Snape that you did this," he whispered, "You know very well that our Houses are very close in the rankings and you also known Snape would never side with you over me. Think about what your House would think of you if you lost them five mere points because you refused to help? It would be a pity to end the streak your House has had so far wouldn't it?"

Hermione could do nothing but stare at Draco furiously, knowing the truth behind his words. Her breath was steadily increasing in speed, intensity, slowly growing more angry. Without another word, she dropped to her knees and began gathering the feathers hastily, crushing some of them in her palm, so great was her rush to get away.

"There is no hurry you know," he said, bending down to join her, though making no effort to help her. He placed a hand over the one holding the wings.

"Get your hand off me," she snapped furiously, slapping his hand with her free one, dropping the wings in the process.

"Dammit," she swore, holding her head in her hands before beginning to pick up the wings. She could feel Draco's eyes following her every movement.

"Why are you doing this," she asked tiredly. She swiped at her forehead with her sleeve, as beads of sweat began lining her forehead, unable to reach them, her hands were so full of wings.

"We need to talk, Granger, and you need to stop avoiding it." He gently reached up and wiped her forehead with the edge of the sleeves of his robe causing her to fall silent. Her flinch at their contact had not escaped him.

"We have nothing to talk about," she said, breaking the silence and lowering her gaze from his eyes to the floor. She kept her eyes focused on the floor in front of her, barely moving her lips.

"How can you say we have nothing to talk about?"

She didn't answer. Standing up, she shoved the wings on his desk and before he could further interrogate her, grabbed him by the scruff of his collar.

"Don't even dare think about knocking them off again," she hissed, her eyes boring into his.

"Don't think this is anywhere close to being over, Granger," a twisted smile crossing his face. "Just wait. You better watch your back because _wherever_ you go Granger, I will be right behind you, waiting."

Stunned and taken aback by the venom in his voice, Hermione let go of his collar abruptly and stepped back as he roughly yanked it back into position. The implicit threat hung there between them, laced delicately and intricately in his words, his voice sweet yet hard, just like powdered sugar glazed on a pastry.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Harry observing them yet again, his piercing green eyes quickly darting from her clenched fists to their eye contact to their sheer proximity, his eyebrows furrowed, the expression on his face indecipherable. Without another word, merely shooting him a pointed glare, she turned on her heel and stalked back towards her table. Harry was still looking at her, the intensity of his gaze beginning to unnerve her.

She was shaken, rattled. It was a sharp contrast from the anger she clearly displayed after an encounter with Malfoy, a difference as clear as that between black and white. The only signs, letting him know she was nervous were her clenched fists by her side and her eyes which were darting every which way of the dungeons, looking everywhere but him. Anytime her eyes got close to him, they would magically slide around him, as though he didn't exist.

"Bottle whatever you have managed to succeed to finish in this allotted time in a vial." Professor Snape's voice cut into the tense silence like a knife. "Write your name and submit them on my desk. Mr. Weasley, a brief word with you if you please."

Ron groaned as he messily filled a glass vial with his dark blue liquid, the thick viscous liquid bubbling and spilling over the top and clinging to the sides of the vial.

"You guys go on," he panted, wiping the sweat off his forehead, "I'll be there in a minute."

They walked up the stairs in silence, their footsteps echoing, as the silence between them grew larger and more powerful. Hermione wracked her brain, desperately trying to find something, _anything_ to talk about that didn't involve Malfoy or potions or Ron. But Harry beat her to it.

"What's going on Hermione?" Harry's voice was so quiet and soft, yet so powerful it echoed in the empty stone pathway.

Hermione abruptly stopped in her tracks, her stomach plummeting, as though she had just fallen from a broomstick that was suspended fifty feet in the air.

"What do you mean, 'what's going on'?" she said lightly, plastering a smile on her face.

Harry sighed. He wasn't getting anywhere with this. She was still being stubborn, refusing to let him in, and it only served to make him more suspicious of her behavior and the exchange he had seen between her and Malfoy a few moments ago. He had no other choice but to cut to the chase.

"Does it have something to do with Malfoy, Hermione?"

That got her attention. Hermione looked sharply at him. The fear and trepidation was plain for everyone to see in her eyes, and then he knew, with a painful twist of his stomach, that his intuitions had been dead on. It was as though a storm of emotions was flooding through him, intertwining and melting together like different colored paints on a pastel, all colliding and mixing together until no single color remained. But as he ran his eyes over the broken girl in front of him, all his anger evaporated like water droplets after the morning dew coming to contact with the hot sun.

He had seen her grow for seven years, watched her thrive and blossom, slowly growing from a young girl to a mature, brave woman. Harry watched in horror as a spectrum of fear and misery flitted across her face coupled with bleak realization and resignation and sheer helplessness. After watching her take everything she had to face until now calmly in her own stride , he also knew how to recognize her breaking point when he saw it.

"That's enough Hermione," said Harry firmly. He gently but firmly caught her by the straps of her bag and pulled her to him. "Look, I understand why you wouldn't want to talk to me and Ron about him. But hell," he ran his hand through his messy locks in frustration, "you can't tell me that the reason you haven't been yourself isn't partly due to him."

Hermione didn't respond. She merely stared at the wall next to him.

"Come on Hermione," he pressed, dropping his bag next to him, completely ignoring that his books had fallen out and lay in a heap on the floor, "You've missed the last _three_ patrols, not one Hermione, _three_, and that too, consecutive ones, which is completely unlike you. You never leave your room unless we have class and unless I force you out to eat with us, and you _always_ look like you're about to cry. What did you think, that I wouldn't notice this?"

"You're overreacting Harry." Hermione laughed, desperately trying to make light of the situation, but it sounded phony and hollow, even to her own ears. "It's just the NEWT exams, there's a ton of ..."

Merlin, even now she was still fighting him. "No, Hermione, it's not because of NEWTS," scoffed Harry. "Did you really think I would believe that, after knowing you this long? You've _never _let the stress of work get to you. _Never_. And if it was too much, you would tell either me or Ron."

The loud noise of someone coming up the steps could be heard, and within minutes Ron's long, lanky shadow could be seen on the off-green walls, stretching and twisting in a distorted manner, nearly causing Hermione to collapse from relief at having saved her from having to answer Harry's incriminating comments and questions. Harry knew he only had a few brief seconds before Ron came, and not wanting to give any impression of what had just happened, quickly bent down and tidied up his belongings.

"I don't want to force you to talk to me Hermione," he said quickly and softly, "But I am here, _always _here for you whenever you're ready and I want you to remember that first and foremost, regardless of any feelings I have toward anyone, you are my best friend and you come first."

"All right." Ron came up, jogging up the stairs, pulling his bag over his arm, calling at them. "The git just wanted to talk to be about my substandard potion, saying some rubbish about how if I didn't improve my dream of becoming an Auror would soon be shattered. Like he knows what he's talking about. Why did you guys wait here? That was mighty nice but I told you that you could have gone ahead."

Hermione shot Harry a silent look of thanks as Harry quickly asked a question, diverting the attention from the class to Quidditch. She wasn't expected to say much, only interject sporadically, leaving her with plenty of time to mull over what had just happened.

She was trapped again, not in the same way she was with Malfoy who managed to contain her not only physically but also emotionally, not just with his feelings but even worse with her own emotions surrounding her like an invisible cage, slowly descending on her, easily casting aside any desperate attempt to rid them. But with Harry, she felt helpless, he had somehow found out and knew what was plaguing her. He would bring it up again, and this time in a place where she couldn't be spared by a timely interruption or a lucky disturbance.

_But could she trust him with what she was about to tell him? _Truth wasn't an issue -- having been on the receiving end of vicious lies and fabricated stories, he knew firsthand the damage, betrayal and misplaced trust and raw anger and pain that could be wrought on the heart. Harry would rather die than betray her trust, but even he wasn't immune to hatred and prejudice -- more so even when it concerned Malfoy.

She knew the battle lines between Harry and Malfoy were far less than those between Malfoy and Ron's. The roots of Ron's enmity with Malfoy lay far deeper, more entrenched in family ties, firmly rooted and steadily branching out over several generations, so old yet so new and raw that Ron was an enemy to Draco in a way that Harry never could be. If there was _anyone_ she could trust to hear her side, evaluate her, and judge her fairly, it would be Harry. Because that was all he had ever wanted; he had never wanted any of the fame that came with the brilliant lightening scar on his head, he'd only wanted to hear the truth, see the truth, and treated as he had treated others -- fairly, honestly, and purely.

Maybe opening up to him would be beneficial, easier to cope with, and hell, open the possibility of forgetting Malfoy. Deep down, she knew, if Harry had been in her position, she would want him to tell her, because as much as she wouldn't be happy with the situation, Harry was first and foremost her best friend, and his happiness and peace of mind and heart meant far too much to her. And she knew, after what he had said in the dungeons, that he felt the same way.

. & .

"Before I tell you anything, promise me you won't tell Ron. " In her voice, not gone unnoticed, was a silent plea of forgiveness and desperation.

They were sitting in front of the fireplace of their quarters, the only place she felt comfortable talking. Harry had stayed true to his word, he hadn't brought up the subject again, only shooting her a knowing look, when he had returned from his Quidditch practice. It only far later that evening, that she had conjured up enough courage to approach him. They were sitting on the sofa opposite the fire, Harry hunched over, his elbows resting on his knees. Hermione sat next to his left side, seated crossed-leg sideways, giving her a clear view of his profile. She could see how torn he was at keeping him in the dark, the shadows from the flames flickering over his face, magnifying the fight going within.

After several moments of tense silence, Harry looked up at Hermione, holding her gaze with his. "I don't like this Hermione, I'll let you know that upfront, I never have been one to keep secrets, I haven't been able to deal with secrecy well, as you do probably remember" he said finally. He paused, still holding her gaze evenly, "But I will promise you, I won't tell Ron anything you tell me tonight."

A look of relief, the emotion Harry had expected considering the magnitude of importance her request held, did not cross her face. She leaned back against the armrest of the sofa, only sighing deeply, her face remaining blank and impassive, her emotions stretched to their furthest point like a spring whose resilience had been tampered with, after being stretched too far, unable to recoil.

"How much does Ron know about this?" she asked apprehensively. Harry could tell she was trying to keep her relationship with Ron working, inspite of all this but after seeing their interactions the last week, even he wasn't so sure they would make it through.

"He doesn't know about Malfoy. I don't think he's suspected anything has to do with Malfoy. But he has noticed something is wrong, and he's worried."

"Has he mentioned any of his suspicions?" she asked timidly, beginning to feel rather shameful at the way she had been acting around him lately.

"Of course he did. He mentioned it once or twice during Quidditch practice over the last couple days. I had my suspicions that it could possibly have to do with Malfoy, but don't worry," he said hastily as a look of horror flittered across her face, " I didn't tell him. But I can't keep making excuses for you, Hermione. It's not fair to him, and he will eventually ask you about it, and I think he's reaching the end of his wire. You know him Hermione, how stubborn and persistent he is, even I won't be able keep him away from asking you about this."

Harry sighed and looked at his hands, rubbing them together. Hermione felt a stab of regret as an expression of betrayal coupled with regret flitted across his face.

"When did this start Hermione? What has happened in the last four weeks with Malfoy? How did you end up here, at this point?" he asked. "I never thought I would ever see this day or be talking to you about Malfoy, I mean, maybe about how much you hate him but never about....wait, do you like him?"

"I don't know what I feel for him. All I know is that, he isn't the same person we thought he was when we first met him. I'm not saying he wasn't downright hideous to you and Ron, and me for that matter, but, there's so much about that doesn't meet the eye --"

"Like what?" said Harry curiously, sitting up a little straighter and turning to face her.

"He's not his father. He wants to be, he's done everything he has done, said everything that he's said, and believed everything that he's believed because he wanted his father to proud of him..."

"That doesn't condone what he's done to us and especially to you the last seven years Hermione. A lot of people want to impress their parents but very few have gone to the lengths he went to."

"I know, Harry, it doesn't justify his behavior, and he admitted he cannot and will never be able to make up for his actions over the past seven years. But there _is _good in him, there is good in his heart, but it's rusty and unused. But it's there. I've seen it, I've felt it, I've been on the receiving end of it."

"Has he done anything to gain your trust, anything to prove that he's supposedly 'changed'?"

Hermione faltered. She knew he had changed but he still at the same time hadn't done much to show he had really changed….not really. He hadn't renounced his parents, given up the Dark side, yet though he could not longer believe the beliefs they espoused and….there was something so innocent and pure in his actions, something so genuine that he couldn't have made it up even if he wanted to.

"You didn't see him that night," she said slowly, shaking her head slowly. She leaned her head on her hand, looking thoughtfully at the ceiling, "That night we were patrolling, and remember I let you go, it was Malfoy who was out. He..I had never seen him look that way, the look in his eyes, what he said, I've never seen him like that before. I'll never forget it. He said I was 'haunting' him Harry, what I said to him, what I did to him, was haunting. I still remember what he said to me, _'I don't know what to feel, what to think, or how to act.'_ It was like he was broken, and I was the one who caused it."

"Do you like him?"

"I'm trying so hard, not to. But, I think I fell for him really hard," she whispered, her eyes filling with tears, "I didn't mean to Harry, you have to believe me. It just….happened, it hit me suddenly without any warning. I'm trying so hard to maintain a relationship with Ron, but it's just _so hard_. I can't be with him for a second before I start feeling guilty, sick, as though I'm cheating on him just by not telling him about this."

"Does he like you back?"

"Yes," she sniffled, swiping at her nose, "He's made it clear to be that he isn't going to let this go."

Harry grimaced, as though he wasn't sure that the fact that Malfoy liked Hermione back was a good or a bad thing.

"I know I said this before but you do need to tell Ron, Hermione, eventually."

"I know," she said, the tears building falling, spilling over onto her pale cheeks. Sniffling, she grabbed a tissue from the box Harry had conjured, "I know I have to tell him. It's the right thing to do, I owe him the truth, not just as his girlfriend, but as his friend. But I can't. He's so happy, so content with what we have. Everytime I feel like I have enough courage to let him know how I feel, he does something that leaves me unable to."

"Is that the only thing preventing you from telling Ron about Malfoy? You don't want to see him angry or hurt. Is that it?"

"No," she said taking a deep breath. "I...If I tell Ron about this, we're done. Forever. Ron is a lot of things, he's kind, genuine, loyal, but even he won't be able to look past this. You don't understand Harry, Draco is an enemy to Ron and Ron to Draco, in a way that you will _never_ be. Their hatred goes back years Harry, stemming from differences in family beliefs, traditions, origins. Though they both may be pure blood, they stand for everything the other stands against. Ron's been brought up to hate the Malfoys' since childhood, you've only hated Draco and his father since you were a teenager."

"The fact is, that the chances of me and Draco even working out are too slim. Ron is a good guy. He's the best boyfriend any girl could want. He's caring, loving, genuine, he's here whenever I need him --"

"But is that enough for you?"

Hermione stopped, caught off guard by his question. He was staring at her seriously, the question burning in his eyes. She swallowed hard.

"Ginny asked us a question a couple days ago in Hogsmeade," she asked slowly. "She asked us if we would rather choose a person we loved but little chance it would work in the long-term, or a person we didn't love but guaranteed to last? Do you remember?" Harry twitched suddenly at the questions, sitting up straighter, slowly nodding 'yes.' "I remember how certain you guys were," a laugh escaping her lips, "but I wasn't. I wanted both longevity and love; when she asked us, I was thrown off balance, and while it unnerved me, it didn't faze me too much because I never thought I'd be in a position where I would be forced to make a choice between the two."

"So you don't just like Malfoy, you love him." His question came out as more of a statement.

"I don't know what 'love' is Harry," she said looking up from where she was staring at the fire. Her eyes were glistening with tears. "I have never understood what 'love' is, and I don't think I ever will. I've heard some people say you love someone if you're completely at ease with them, but I don't buy that because that means, I'd love Ron. I only know one thing Harry, I don't love Ron. Romantically," she added. Harry had straightened up and was looking at her with a look, as though he had known it all the time. "I love him as a friend. I will always love him as a friend, I liked him romantically, but I never loved him."

"Do you love Malfoy?" Harry repeated, this time his statement sounding like a question.

"I don't know." Hermione leaned forward and rested her head on Harry's shoulder. Harry felt the wetness of a tear fall down and hit his arm, sliding down until it slid onto her knee. "There's something about Draco, that makes me feel something Ron has never, forget Ron, no one has made me feel. I've spent hours trying to figure out just what it is about him that has such a huge effect on me. It could be his arrogance, his infuriating self-confidence, the fact that he just will _never_ back down from me, it could be more than one, or none of those. " Hermione sniffled, swiping at her face with her hands, swallowing hard. Harry gently wrapped his arm around her.

"He makes me feel alive." Hermione drew back, breaking the grasp Harry had around her shoulder. Her eyes were glowing, sparkling like jewels in the light of the fire, the first time in a long time, she had looked this happy, at rest. A lone tear fell down her cheek, but she brushed it away.

"Then what is stopping you from choosing Malfoy? Why are you trying to hold on to a relationship with Ron? I still don't understand."

"It goes back to that question. Me and Draco have no future. Me and Ron do. It's not leaving that's the problem, it's _who_ I would be leaving Ron for. Wouldn't it be stupid for me to leave Ron and lose him in my life for someone who there is no chance of it succeeding?"

"What I think doesn't matter Hermione. It's what you think that matters."

"If I was sure that I wouldn't lose Ron, this would be easy," she sighed. "But I will."

Harry didn't try dissuading from that comment. He stayed silent; even he knew Ron would never be able to tolerate it if Hermione left him for Malfoy. Yes, Ron would be hurt and dare he say, even heartbroken if Hermione broke up with him, but for her to leave him for _Malfoy_ would shatter Ron's heart in a way that even time would never be able to heal.

"So what you're saying is that if Ron weren't to leave you, as a friend, whatever, you would go to Malfoy."

"No, it's not even that simple. God," she burst out, punching the sofa next to her, the first signs of the her infamous anger rising to the surface, "Here's how to put it. Draco would have to be on our side. I can't be with someone who supports Voldemort in any way, shape, or form. And that's even a bigger reason than Ron, for my not wanting to pick Draco."

"Merlin, this is complicated. So just let me see if I have this straight," he said, squinting at her, "Basically over the last couple weeks, you and Malfoy have, how should I put it, come closer. And you now like him. He likes you back," a look crossing his face as though it still hadn't registered this was Malfoy they were talking about, "But you don't want to leave Ron for Malfoy because (1) he supports Voldemort and (2) you would lose Ron. But if both those things, however improbable, were to happen, you would choose Malfoy."

Hermione say quietly for a few moments, mulling over his statement; she hadn't really realized how improbable her standards were until Harry had summarize them succinctly. She swallowed hard and breathed deeply, finally muttering, "yes."

"I don't want to sound rude Hermione, or be, a downer," he said hesitantly, "But you do know that… the chances of even _one_ of those things happening, let alone both those things happening is...virtually impossible."

"I know." She leaned back against the sofa, looking defeated, the excitement present in her eyes a moment ago no longer present. "That's why I'm in this predicament."

"It comes down to whether you want to risk it," he said, turning again to face her, his green eyes boring into hers, "You're playing with chance Hermione. You have two options. What you have right now is great, you can either be content with it, or do you want to gamble it for something even better? The only catch is that you never go back to what was great. The downside to staying with what you have right now is that you will _always_ wonder what 'could have' happened, but the upside is that you _never_ will feel the pain you will feel if your gamble does not pay off. It's simple Hermione, it comes down to one thing and one thing only: _regret_. Will you regret the decision you make? If you regret the decision you make, then it wasn't the right one. And only you know, deep down, what decision in this mess you will regret and which one you won't."

"And I know you well, you will consider me, Ginny, and Ron's feelings when you make this decision," he said hurriedly cutting her off as she opened her mouth to speak, "Ron is important, but I don't want you to. This is a big issue, an important issue, and judging by what I have heard you say the last hour or so and by what I have seen you go through, it comprises a fundamental part of your happiness. And _no one_, not even your parents, have a say over that. Don't worry about me, because I will be here, regardless of the decision you make."

"What do you think Harry? What would you do?"

Harry laughed softly. "It doesn't matter what I want, what I would do. I can't make the decision for you. Only you can. You know what's best for you, I have only ever wanted what is best for you, but sometimes even I don't know what that is."

Hermione fell silent, staring at the fire, its intensity mirroring the fire within.

"You have talked to Malfoy about this, of course. What did he say?"

Harry gaped at the rising blush in Hermione's cheek and the look of guilt crossing her face. "Wait, you _haven't _talked to him about this?"

"I didn't know how to," she burst out, twisting the tissue so hard it ripped, "He's wanted to, he's tried so hard to talk to me, but" she faltered, "I'm scared. Scared that everything I think and feel will no longer make sense or seem stupid to him."

"You _have_ to talk to him about this Hermione, because while it makes sense to _you_, he's in the dark. He doesn't know what you're feeling and thinking. But more than that, it isn't fair to him. You've had a part in what's happened between you guys, regardless of whether it was intentional or not, and you owe that much to him to give him closure. And you never know, that might help you too."

"What do I say to him?"

"Everything you told me tonight. You want to have the feeling after talking with him that you told him everything you had to."

"Ok," she said slightly flustered, standing up and shoving the blanket back onto the sofa, "Ok, so how do I approach it? What format do I use? How many different issues are --"

"Whoa," laughed Harry for the first time all evening, holding his hands up, "Stop. This isn't something you _plan _beforehand. It's not an essay that you can research for. Yes, you need to know what you say, but it has to come from your heart and you'll soon learn that you can't prepare for these. You have to go with the flow and take everything that happens in its stride."

"But --"

"No buts," he said firmly, "I know, it's scary and hard….you know, sometimes I feel relationships are harder to deal with than Voldemort," he trailed off a hint of a smile on his face, "anyways, you need to take it at its face value. You just have to just take a deep breath and face it."

Slightly deflated, she plopped back on the sofa. "Come on," he joked, lightly poking her in the side, "Where's the determined and unafraid Hermione I've known for seven years."

"Clearly invisible for the last several days," she muttered, cupping her hands in her face.

"This is slightly out of the context," she began timidly, " but how long have you suspected that he had an involvement?" she asked softly, twisting the tissue in her hand, every which way, folding it into distorted shapes.

"I may not be the most observant person Hermione, but even I can notice some things," he said, a hint of smile crossing his face. He rubbed a hand across his face " You know, I'm still not even sure what tipped me off, I guess it'd have to be intuition, gut feeling. I can't explain it any other way. It just seemed odd, bizarre, that a man who went out his own way to make sure we were miserable suddenly stopped. With a guy like Malfoy, it's got to be something big."

He paused briefly, "Then in Transfiguration, Malfoy gave me your book after class and there was this weird expression on his face. I didn't know how to interpret it, he spat something along the lines of how you were too scared to speak to him yourself, but there was something off about the way he had said it. It was as though he was _sad_ he wasn't giving the book personally to you. But it wasn't enough for me to thing something was happening, but then after today..." he trailed off, staring into the fire for a few moments. "There was something _different_ in the way you were interacting, I can't really pin it.." he paused again, looking as though he were trying to collect his thoughts but failing miserably, "It was in your body language. You were fighting with him, that much was clear, but it was something deeper, _far_ deeper than the old name-calling fights you had. And then hell, when you grabbed his collar, I knew something had happened."

Hermione was slightly stunned at his insight at her and Malfoy's actions.

"Do you know what my biggest hint was? They were these," he said softly, touching the skin next to her eyes, winking knowingly. "They showed me everything you couldn't tell me."

Pure sincerity was etched on his face that she almost felt uncomfortable looking at him. Silence fell between them but unlike before, it was calm and clear, as though the previous cobwebs and any lurking skeletons had been found and ridded of. She leaned her head against her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes; she was about finally feel peaceful when the clocks began chiming.

"Oh it's 11," she exclaimed jerking back, "We have duty tonight." Hurriedly, she threw off the blanket and yanked her shoes and cloak on with such alarming speed, that it left Harry feeling dizzy.

"I'll patrol tonight Hermione." He stood up and after kissing her forehead softly put his own shoes and jacket on. "You need rest."

"No, I've already missed it three times," she said, shaking her head. "I can't shirk my duties just because of my own problems. It's not right."

"No," said Harry firmly, He opened the portrait door and stepping outside. "You're in no shape."

"Well, let me at least walk you to the Great Hall." "I could use a walk to clear my head and just….mull over everything we talked about."

"Alright, but just letting you know, if I even catch a glimpse of you behind me, you won't need to worry about having a chat with Malfoy." He winked and smiled, as Hermione playfully punched him as she squeezed past him into the hallway.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

_Please REVIEW!_

_Until next time,_

_Cheers, AM_


	9. Causa

_Title: Virtus et Iudicium _

_Author:_ Anjali Malfoy

_Rating:_ T

_Disclaimer:_ I do not in any way, shape, or form own Harry Potter or its characters.

**Chapter IX: Causa**

"Amare et sapere vix deo conceditur" - _Even a god finds it hard to love and be wise at the same time. _

Hermione breathed the cold, night air in deeply, stretching her arms above her head and towards the heavens, exhaling loudly and slowly, the noise echoing in the quiet night. A small laugh escaped her lips as she silently admired the white puffs of air her breath released. The Quidditch pitch was empty and dark, the only faint light coming from her wand, illuminating the damaged and wilted grass from endless months of rain. The stands once filled with Hogwarts students wearing the colors of their Houses were now empty, stood tall and proud though barren and lonely, towering over Hermione. After stretching once more, she shoved aside the flap of cloth covering the stairs and bounded up them, her footsteps echoing in the empty staircases.

At reaching the top, she collapsed against the railing, out of breath, her laughter emanating through the stadium, like the scent from broken bottle of perfume spreading throughout a closed room. Leaning against the railing, as her breath returned to normal, she surveyed the scenery around her. She'd stood on this balcony many times in her seven years at Hogwarts, but never had she experienced the sheer power and jaw-dropping beauty around her.

The lake lay behind her, stretching into the horizon, the fog rising and creating a small blanket and hovering like a fly above food, like the steam forming on top of a pot of boiling water. Hogwarts stood against the clear night sky, the full moon shining brightly, creating a halo and painting the black stone walls in a shower of white light.

If only her mind were as clear as the night sky. Her talk with Harry had shook some sense in her, forcing her to realize just exactly how she felt, and in some respect had cleared the issue up as far as where she stood and how she needed to deal with the situation. Stretching out on the benches behind her, she closed her eyes, reveling in the soft breeze. Above her, grey clouds slowly gathered, silently and stealthily like an enemy in black, slinking in, sneakily and cleverly like a silent killer. The biggest thing she had taken from Harry was her feeling that everything would work out and turn out _ok_ in the end. A renewed sense of peace and determination spread throughout her body, it felt as though it was revitalizing her, giving her a new prospect and chance.

Hermione started in surprise as a drop of rain fell, hitting her on the cheek. As her eyes re-adjusted to the night sky, now blanketed in a thick layer of clouds, her breath caught in her throat as she jerked back in fear when she caught a glimpse of a figure standing across from her against the railing.

"I told you I would always be where you were didn't I?" Her fear was quickly replaced by an unpleasant sensation that jolted her body as her mind registered who it was.

Draco was leaning against the stand in front of her, his hands buried in her pants, his grey eyes staring at her with what appeared to be a battle between his barely disguised anger at her behavior the last few days and his clear passion for her.

"Draco." Her question came out as more of a statement rather than a question. The raindrops fell faster, harder, wetting her cloak, darkening the wood of the stands. Unlike before when the familiar lurch of fear and nervousness would cause her to run, this time she squared her shoulders, firmly planting her feet into the wood, remembering what Harry had told her.

Draco was clearly ready for Hermione's movement to the staircase to her left to make a run for the castle as he kept shifting his weight from one foot to the other, anticipating her every move like a keeper attempting to judge which side of the goal the Chaser would pick. When Hermione stayed seated and it became clear to him that she -surprisingly -had no intention of leaving, he settled against the railing, though keeping a rather keen eye on her movements.

"You look rather surprised." Hermione commented, almost wanting to laugh at the bewildered expression on Draco's face and his quick, jerky movements every time she moved even the slightest bit.

His face darkened at her comment, hiding the blush on his face as he realized just how silly he must look. "Well, judging by the last week, excuse me for being surprised when you don't bolt as though consorting with me would be injurious to your health," he snapped.

It was Hermione's face that darkened next. A look of disgust replaced the fleeting look of hurt, before she stood up.

"Sit down. You're not going anywhere."

Hermione wordlessly gaped at him before she stomped down the steps, glaring at him disgustedly all the while as if to say _"make me" _before moving towards the stairs.

"You can't go anywhere now," he said quickly turning and grabbing onto her wrist, his hand encircling it and holding tight like steel handcuffs. "There's no one here who will hear you scream and no one here who will conveniently walk by. Only Potter's out and he's on the opposite side of the castle."

Hermione stared defiantly into his eyes, knowing full well the truth of his words.

"Let me go," she said firmly, pulling away.

"Dammit," he snapped and using the full force of his body, pulled her back to him before shoving her against the wall of one of the stands and pinning her hands next to her head. "Stop this. Stop being this way. You are not going anywhere, I said."

"Don't _tell_ me how to act," she spat, the venom blatantly obvious, "I tried to be civil, but you just can't let anything from the past slide can you?"

Angrily, she stopped down on his foot, and as he yelped and moved back, she jammed one of her newly-released elbows into his gut. After staying for a moment to stare down at him angrily and glower in his obvious discomfort, she turned on her heel and down the stairs and towards the castle, paying no attention to the fact that her cloak was falling off her shoulder and trailing on the muddy grass.

Wincing and doubling over slightly, but he recovered just in time to to catch the castle door just as it was about to close and see in the dark halls that she was running at full speed towards the steps leading to the Head Tower. Grinding his teeth, he bit his lip and sped up. There was no way she was getting away this time.

Hermione turned her head slightly and gasped in shock and horror as she saw him closing on her, the distance between them closing with every passing second. Draco caught her wrist and yanked her to face him.

"I said I was done with you Malfoy," she screamed, twisting in his grasp and clawing at him, "Now_ let me go_!"

"We are not done, I said. We are not done until I say we so, do you understand?"

"How _dare_ you have the audacity to say something like that to me you egotistical jerk? You just let me go right now before -"

"Before what? Before you become a coward and run off like a baby when I try to have a real conversation?"

Draco drew jerked back from where Hermione's hand had just connected with his right cheek.

"Don't you even _dare_." Hermione's voice was low but the anger was clear. Each syllable was laced with contempt and hatred. Draco could tell he had gone too far with that comment. "Don't. You. Even. Dare." Her gaze changed from one of anger to contempt.

Now he was angry. He glared at her evenly, his eyes boring into hers, matching her ever-intensifying glare with stride, unwilling to back down.

"What do you expect me to say? I've been following you for the last _fucking_ week, trying to find you alone so I could talk to you. _Just talk to you_. _And. Every. Single. Fucking. Damn. Time,_ you find some bullshit excuse to leave."

"Well then maybe it's time you got my message," she spat trying to pull his hand off hers but failing. His grip was like an iron vice. "Are you that dense?"

"If there's one thing you should about me by now Granger, it's that I am bloody persistent," he growled ignoring her insult.

"Just let me go," she yelled kicking at his legs but soon found herself pinned against the wall by his body.

"Dammit Granger, what do you want from this? What do you want from me? You owe me that much."

" Dammit Malfoy, I don't want everything to add up to the perfect equation. I want a mess & chaos. I want someone to go crazy, out of his mind for me. I want to feel passion, heat, and madness. I want it all." screamed Hermione, pushing against his body but to no avail.

"Then why won't you let me give that to you," yelled Draco, forgetting that they were not only in a hallway where anyone could walk by, but also that they were out-of-bound after hours.

"Because you can't _dammit_," she yelled back, as though it were obvious.

"I have been trying to tell you that I can for the last week. _But you are too fucking blind to see it._ Why won't you let us happen?"

"Because we can't, how many goddamn times do I need to say the same bloody thing?"

"No, no it's not that we can't happen. It's that you won't let us happen."

Hermione felt as though someone had slapped her on the face.

"We're done with this conversation," she said coldly, "I am through with you."

"No you are not," Draco roughly yanked Hermione by her arm.

"Where are you taking me? Let me go, you insufferable prat," Hermione cried, clawing at the cuffs of Draco's sleeves as he effortlessly picked her up and carried her into the Head Dorm, where he threw her on the sofa before pinning her down underneath his arms.

"If you won't talk to me, Merlin help me, I will make you talk to me."

"Back to threatening me now, are we Malfoy?" she sneered.

"If that's what it takes, then so be it."

At that moment, footsteps could be heard coming towards the Head Tower. "Harry," Hermione gasped, dread seeping into every part of her body. "Oh god, no." The next second, she found herself in her room on her bed with Draco on top of her.

"Don't even think about calling out for him" he hissed against her ear.

"Hermione, are you here?" To their surprise, they heard Ron, not Harry calling.

"Don't," he whispered hoarsely as he knocked on her door a couple times.

Hermione could hear Draco's heartbeat against her shirt, loud and powerful, increasing with each second. She thought she was going to pass out from the sheer intensity and tension. They waited with bated breath until after what was only a few seconds but felt like a millennium, they heard his footsteps recede from the door and the portrait hole open and shut. Draco let out a sigh of relief, dropping his head to his chest as his heartbeat steadily slowed down before climbing off Hermione.

"Do you love him?" he said after a couple moments of silence, his silver eyes staring out of her window and into the distance.

His question caught her off guard. Wide-eyed, she looked up at him, gulping nervously.

"Do I love him?" she asked, as though she hadn't heard his question right.

"Yes Granger. Do. You. Love. Him?" he asked again, turning away from the window so swiftly that she flinched.

Hermione swallowed, eyes lowering under his piercing gaze.

"No," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

"I'm sorry?" he said cupping his ear, moving closer to her, a glint in his eyes. It was obvious that he knew what her response was. "What did you say? I couldn't hear."

"No," she whispered slightly louder, tears pricking her eyes.

"I still couldn't hear," he said, coming even closer until he was next to her, his skin barely touching hers. "Say it louder, Hermione."

"No, dammit," she yelled shoving Draco away so hard that he fell on his side, "No. I don't love Ron. I won't ever. There? Happy?"

She had no intention of crying in front of him. Her tears barely contained, she tried to make a dash for the bathroom but he grabbed her lower arm.

"Let me go," she cried angrily clawing at him. "Let me go!"

"No," he said. When she continued to fight, he pulled her down and pushed her against the bed. Hermione stared angrily at him from teary eyes.

"Please don't cry," he said softly wiping her tears away. "Please don't."

"That's rich," she said laughing hollowly.

"Then why," he asked, his voice breaking slightly, "Then why him. Why him?"

"Because he treats me well," she said unable to fight anymore. Wearily, she closed her eyes and leaned her head against the pillow behind her. " I do love him, I will always love him. He is one of the best friends any girl could ask for, one of the best boyfriend's any girl could ever dream of. He's been a part of my life since I was eleven years old. He is a good guy."

"And I'm not?"

"It's not that you're not. But we have no..." she trailed off.

"No what?"

"No future. Face it. What is there for us to look forward to?"

"Each other maybe?"

"We fight all the time dammit Malfoy, that won't work, it won't work."

"First, that is not a good enough reason. Second, it sounds to me like you're trying to convince yourself rather than me."

"That's enough Draco," she said shoving his hands off her shoulders, thoroughly frustrated, "Stop living in this fantasy. Can't you see? We cannot be together. We come from two different paths of life Draco. We are not meant to be together."

"Hermione, I will not let such nonsense as _"we are not meant to be together"_ to pull us apart. I care for you and I know you care for me."

"That isn't enough."

"Then what is? Dammit Hermione, what _is_ enough for you? What do I have to do to prove to you that this serious what I feel for you? Merlin Hermione, what do I have to do?" he asked leaning so he was no longer holding her down. Hermione could see the frustration as he ran his hands through his hair.

"I can't ask you do anything for me Draco. Because I love you too much to ask you to change for me...but I love myself too much to settle for anyone less," she whispered, sitting up her heart breaking as she said them. Several more tears leaked out from the corners of her eyes.

"Why won't you just try me? Why can't you have just a little bit of faith?"

"Fine, are you willing to not become a Death Eater? Are you willing to renounce everything your father had taught you to stand for. I know you aren't the same Malfoy I loathed for seven years. Believing something is one thing Draco, but acting on it is much harder. Much harder. Because you would be forced to act against those you accepted as your brothers, sisters, and breathen. It would be the same as if you asked me to leave the Order of the Phoenix. As much as I know you can't see eye to eye with them anymore, you have the burden of expectation and I don't think it's something you can let go."

The look on his face sent her into another wave of tears.

"What do you want me to say to that?" he said softly.

"The truth, I want the truth. Is that too much to ask?"

Draco didn't respond. "I don't know what to say to that."

"Then just leave," she screamed throwing her pillow at him so hard that it hit his shoulder and bounced off, laying limply on the floor.

Without another word, he stood up. Hermione heard the sound of the door closing a few moments later.

"I'm sorry," she whispered brokenly slipping off the bed and onto the floor, tears streaming down her face. "I'm sorry," her body racking with sobs.

. & .

Harry sighed as he walked back to his quarters. He had been so preoccupied by the going-ons of that evening that instead of admonishing several stragglers, he'd inadvertently wished them a good night, only realizing it after they had scurried away. But those blunders were so small in the grand scheme of things, _especially_ compared to the tangled web he had entrapped himself in, that'd he'd brushed them off.

Truth be told, he still didn't know how to take this news. Hermione and Malfoy had managed to weave a very complex and delicate web, as though any wrong move would rip the fragile threads apart. Like most people in the castle, his first instinct was to grab Hermione and shake her senseless for what she feeling and thinking, this is _Malfoy_ for Christ's sake. He loved Hermione like a sister, and always respected her judgment but this time, he felt like she had gone wrong. This was _Malfoy_.

It always came back to that. It was _Malfoy. _He'd taunted her, teased her, and abused her emotionally and verbally, yet _somehow_ she had been able to look over those. Questioning why she had fallen for him was to no avail; in all this chaos, he knew deep down that Hermione wasn't a pushover, a sucker for sweet words and actions. No, Malfoy must have won over Hermione by showing her he really was a different person and was capable of change.

If he had his way, he would forbid her from seeing him and convince that staying with Ron was the right thing. But he meant what he had said; he didn't know what was best for her, only she did, and he wasn't going to be a barrier towards that happiness. It was then he realized with an unpleasant jolt that..she could not and would not be happy with any decision she made.

She'd put herself in a precarious and deadly situation. She wasn't going to walk out unscathed, and that was what crushed him the most. Her only 'sin' was falling in love with someone she _maybe_ should not have, and as a result of it, she was being punished, standing in a dark crossroad of love and friendship. Relationships aren't all about love, love's an important part of a relationship. No, relationships are all about timing and the timing of their love was if anything, disastrous. No matter what choice she made, there would be consequences and broken hearts on either side. That was unavoidable.

He didn't want to see her _ever_ regret her decision, because he knew from firsthand experience, what toll regret takes on your body and mind. Right after Sirius' death, hell even now, when he allowed himself to remember that infamous day during OWL's when Hermione had told him, tried to convince him frantically, that Voldemort was _using_ him, throwing back his need to feel like the hero. And he'd dismissed it as mere caution and stupidity, and how it had led to Sirius' death, the strong feeling of regret swept over him like the strong waves of the ocean, slowly but surely pulling you under, suffocating you until the weight is too much and you stop breathing. Because you know,_ you know_ you could have prevented the situation you're in right now, and its _that's_ realization that shatters your very being. Regret worms itself into your heart and cuts it, rips you apart like you're made of mere strings; it's like a shallow cut that never will heal, bandaged so lightly that the mere presence of pain can re-open it, deeper than before.

If she chose Malfoy, she'd lose Ron, which in it of itself would crush her, but if she lost Draco on top of that, the burden and weight of regret on her shoulders would be _inconsolable_. It comes down to consequences, because the consequences of their actions are severe. It would come down to whether they can _live_ with those consequences , no matter how the situation turned out. If they can, all power to them, but if not… he didn't want to see that day.

. & .

Any sense of renewed hope for her predicament had died with their fight last night. Something was nagging at her about last night's argument, not leaving, like an itch that refused to stop no matter how much you tried to get rid of it, and it was only after several hours and a few wasted class periods that it hit her. She hadn't told him everything. There was still too much left unsaid and unlike before when it tore at her and made her cry, it was beginning to anger and frustrate her. So she'd made up her mind; she was going to find him when he was alone and just....ask him to speak with her, even after the way she had blown up and unceremoniously thrown him out of her room last night.

It was at dinner when she finally found her opportunity. It hadn't been easy; Draco was as good at avoiding her as he was at following her and keeping track of her every movements. He was like a professional chess player, somehow knowing and accurately predicting her next moves, foiling her plans even before she had carried them out, leaving her scrambling to come up with a new one.

"I have something to attend to. Excuse me for a moment," she said hastily, shoving her chair back in as she caught him leaving the Great Hall.

Before they could speak, she was already at the other end of table, practically sprinting towards the door.

Once she was outside, she glanced around her quickly and saw that he was heading for the Potions classroom. There were a few stragglers meandering the corridors, several shooting her weird looks as she tiptoed after him, several times pausing to flatten herself against the wall when he stopped or looked around, as though he were up to something no-good and didn't want anyone following him.

He had slowed down considerably now, as though he had finally reached his destination. Hermione made it around a bend just in time to see him turning another corner, which led to what she knew to be a dead-end. There was no one else here now. Careful to keep her footsteps from echoing on the floor, she slowly and silently tiptoed across the hall, before twisting her head and snatching a look.

He had vanished. _That's not possible. _Stupefied, she ran into the hall and turned around, unable to believe that he was no longer there.

"Where could he have gone?" she muttered to herself in disbelief. There were no cleverly masked doors hiding in the stone walls, no concealed tunnels leading to other hidden rooms. The corridor was dark, the only light shining from the dim vermilion flames of the torches spaced evenly along the stone walls.

A noise behind her made her jerk around and draw her wand out, from sheer conditioning and habit. To her right side, Draco moved out of the darkness of the corridors, almost giving the impression as though he had somehow materialized from the shadows flickering on the stone walls. He had an expression on his face and in his eyes -- one she had never seen until now, his face like a blank slate, free of emotion, yet his eyes were tinted with bitterness, anger, and helplessness.

"Draco," she gasped, thrown off by his sudden and unexpected entrance.

He only stared at her, with the same look in his eyes and impassive look on his face.

"We um," she faltered, licking her lips nervously, "We have to talk."

"And what could have brought about such an asinine idea?"His voice was brief, cold, and sharp like the edge of a newly sharpened knife.

Hermione ignored his comment though it stung; she was determined to be above his behavior today and not let him wind her up, and equally determined to talk to him so this mess could be settled once and for all.

_"_Do you always have to talk to me this way? It almost makes me not want to engage in any activity with you."

"If I'm not mistaken, you were the one looking for me this time," he said sardonically. His voice was finely lined with pain and a slight satisfaction in knowing she had caved.

A light flush rose in her cheeks as she realized he probably knew she was there the whole time; she must have looked like a complete idiot. She merely stood there, gaping at him, thrown off by his attitude. Was this the same guy who was in her room two days ago?

"This is just like you isn't it?" Rage, wonder, and disbelief were etched clearly in every word. Any pity and shame she had for the way she had treated him last night was quickly vanishing, giving rise to anger.

He didn't respond, only smirked. At the smirk on his face, something small but so fundamental inside her shattered, like sharp glass shards from a broken mirror.

"Fine." She threw up her arms, letting them fall limply by her sides. Two could play that game. "Have it your way."

He knew he had gone too far this time. He could tell every word he said was breaking her will, breaking her resolve like a chisel slowly but surely chipping its way into a slab of marble. Even though it pained him to see her like this, knowing that his behavior was putting her through agony, in a twisted way - though it was cruel and heartless - her reaction gave him an odd satisfaction because she was now feeling how he had been the last week. Her eyes had stared evenly at him, orbs of crushed chestnut, emotions flickering and changing before wiping clean and staring at him with a cold, hard, stare.

It was now or never. There were several - _very few_ - but nonetheless, several situations where pride bowed down before humility and he knew that this was one of them. The moment she turned that corner, he would lose her forever.

"Hermione, wait," he said quickly. She stopped in her tracks, her hand resting on the wall. His desperation was clear in each and every word ."We do....we do want to talk."

The first real smile broke across her her face for the first time in...a long time, he realized. Her eyes glowed a warm hazel, exuding hope, warmth, and love in the candlelight. It sent a jolt of happiness through him, though so fleeting, it vanished in the blink of an eye before being buried in a mountain of pressure and stress. She took a small step toward him.

"What did you want to --"

Hermione held up her hand to silence him, looking frantically around her, as footsteps echoed through the hall, growing louder with each step.

"Someone's coming," she said hastily,"I'll owl you, keep tonight open." She took a step back then stopped, pinning her eyes on his. Her eyes were reflecting the flickering light from the torches, emphasizing the longing that was so _blatantly_ lying there.

The footsteps grew louder but Hermione paid no attention to them. Her gaze was glued to his.

"Go," he said simply, staring at her. His eyes never her face. His gaze never left her back as she walked, almost running until she reached the corner. She stopped abruptly then turned around.

Her eyes bore into his for a breath of a moment, deep chestnut staring into crushed onyx ...and then she was no longer there.

. & .

It was only a few hours later that Draco got an owl from Hermione.

_"Astronomy Tower. Midnight." _

He had ten minutes to get there. With his invisibility cloak in hand, he swept from his dorm.

Hermione stood against the ledge, staring into the night sky, her hands clasped over the edge of the railing. Something was slightly different in the way she looked tonight possibly due to her change in appearance - loose soft dark blue jeans and a white tee-shirt. Her hair was braided, a few rebellious tendrils escaping and framing her face. At the noise of the door shutting, she turned around, her face breaking into a small and strained smile.

"Hi," she said softly, turning away from the ledge.

Draco merely nodded, carefully folding his cloak and gently placing it on a ledge. He looked different tonight; maybe it was the fact that he was wearing a loose pair of black trousers pair with a dark green shirt with some emblem drawn in silver in a language she didn't recognize. His hair which was usually slicked back was falling on his forehead in loose strands.

Considering the situation they were in, Hermione was handling herself with remarkable composure. The only hint that let Draco know the stress and discomfort she was feeling were her eyes darting around the room, not staying on a particular object for more than a split second, like a hummingbird flitting from flower to flower in search for pollen.

Hermione let her gaze fall to the floor. Draco receded back to the ledge against the wall and sank on it.

"We do need to talk," she said softly, breaking the uncomfortable silence again.

Draco bit back his sarcastic comments, remembering how disastrous their previous encounter had began because of his wisecracks.

"This is hard for me," she continued looking down at her hands, "I haven't really been in this position before, nor did I ever imagine I would be. I.." she faltered, "Just be patient with me, give me some time. Just promise me that you'll be honest and open tonight as I'll try to be." ."

Draco merely nodded his assent with a slight nod of his head and a hint of a smile, though large enough that Hermione noticed it.

"What's so funny?" she asked curiously, trying to stop her herself from getting irritated, at what she presumed to be lack of seriousness.

"You just sound like a judge laying ground rules," he said dismissively, his face again breaking into a small but strained smile.

A small laugh escaped her own mouth, the skin around her eyes crinkling as a genuine smile spread across her face. As quickly as it had come, it vanished.

"Look Hermione, I," Draco started, "I like you, I really do. And I know, try as hard as you do to fight it, you like me too. I understand that there are a lot of obstacles in our way, hurdles we have to overcome. I know our relationship won't garner much support from the other students here or our families."

"If you know this, then why do you keep trying to make this work?" she asked, moving closer to where he sat.

"I have a choice don't I? You taught me that. Do I know that my family won't accept this? Yes. Do I know that your friends will be angry and feel betrayed? Yes. I can accept that or I can fight it, and try to make it work. And I choose to fight, not to blindly accept what should be expected to come out of this."

Hermione looked torn as to whether to be estatic that he had learned or to be miffed that her own argument was being used against her. "You have to _know_ what battles to fight. When I said that, I didn't mean that you choose to fight everything and anything. There's a multitude of things standing between us. It's not that simple. We can't fight the world, just the two of us." She was so close, he could see the small puffs of air her breath formed in the chilly night air. A short strand of hair was waving wildly in the mild breeze, he forced himself to not reach out and tuck the strand behind her ear.

"Fine, let's go through them one by one. Start. Let's see if these "so-called" obstacles have any merit."

"Ron."

"What about Weasel," he spat.

Hermione looked up at the ceiling as if to say "_why me?" _"He's one reason I can't just become your girlfriend."

"What's keeping you from leaving him?"

"I can leave him. At this point after seeing what's happened in the last four weeks, I may just end things, because it isn't fair to him or me. But I can't leave him for _you_. I'll lose him. And I do not want to lose him if our relationship won't work out."

"If Weasley can't accept the decisions you make, and support them, then he's not really a friend."

"Oh, _come off it_ Draco. Do you really expect Ron to be understanding when it comes to you? When it comes to his girlfriend dumping him for his worst enemy? Do you _understand_ the magnitude of hate he harbors for you?"

"I do understand," he snapped, completely forgetting about the 'list' of problems with a possible relationship. "What's it going to take to ensure that we have a future?"

"If you come over to our side," she said softly.

"I didn't hear that Hermione," he said. "Come on, it's fine," he coaxed when he saw her mouth open, then close.

"You have to renounce your position in Voldemort's army."

Draco stared at her for a brief moment in shock, before he laughed loudly. His laughter died and smile faded when Hermione placed her hands on her hips and glared at him accusingly - she was dead serious.

"You do realize the gravity of the request you asked right? I can't just quit becoming a Death Eater. This isn't something where I can waltz in and say," his voice changed from incredulous to loud and mock cheery," "Hello Voldemort, here's my resignation. It was great working for you for a couple months. I'll see you later. " "

"Enough with the sarcasm. And why can't you leave? What's keeping you there? Before, I could understand, you believed it was your pureblood loyalties, but you don't believe that now. I fail to see the attraction, you don't stand for the values they exude, you can't carry out the deception and violent crimes they commit, and you find it _impossible_ to follow any orders you've ever been given."

"My _parents_ are my reason for staying there, and regardless of what you have seen and heard from them, they love and care for me very much." He stared at her defiantly, as though daring her to say anything to the contrary.

"So essentially, you're willing to sacrifice your entire future for them. If your father wasn't a Death Eater, would you be in this quandary that frankly, really shouldn't be happening?"

"No," he said rather softly, as though he had just realized the lack of support for his actions. "But what other option do I have?"

"You could join the Order," she said as though it were obvious.

"The Order._ The Order_. Right. Like any of _them_ would believe like I wasn't a spy for the Dark side," he spat. "I'd be smothered and stifled there, my every move followed and double checked, as though I _were_ a Death Eater and I _refuse _to be treated as such."

"That's the only way Draco. If we're on opposite sides, we have to treat each other like enemies. I can't tell another Auror to spare your life, just like you can't tell another Death Eater to spare mine. It's war out there,: she said desperately her hand waving somewhere towards in the unknown that lay past the balcony, "and it has _no_ room for whatever personal feelings we have."

"By the same token, if I joined, I couldn't tell the Aurors to spare my parents," he said his voice low.

Hermione sighed and groaned as she buried her head in her arms.

"If I did - _theoretically_ speaking mind you- join the Aurors," a sour looking coming over his features, "Would you leave Weasley, knowing full well that even then, the possibility of him not being your friend is still high?"

Hermione faltered. Draco noticed the look of uncertainty coming over her features, and a mild look of anger graced his features. "I need a guarantee Hermione, that you would pick me, because I would only join the Order because of you."

"I shouldn't be the only reason you join the Order," she cried taking a couple steps back, and whirling around, "I want you to join the Order because you _believe_ what we stand for. Because you want to fight for what we believe in."

"I do," he said hastily in an attempt to stifle her agitated behavior, "I didn't mean to say it that way. You said it yourself, I don't believe in what the Death Eaters do, and there are more moral reasons for siding with the Order but they seem trivial compared to you. I can't help the way I feel, _you_ would be the biggest reason for my joining the Order. But I _need_ to know, would you then --"

"I can't give you an answer right now," she said slowly, knowing just how much this response would hurt him, but he _needed_ to know. She could feel the way his body stiffen up. He looked as though every word she had just spoken had driven a dagger deeper and deeper into his heart.

"So even that isn't good enough," he said incredulously. "What is lacking now?"

"The guarantee that we'll work out," she said simply.

Draco guffawed and leapt off the ledge. She said that as simply as if she were stating that there was a breeze blowing outside. He walked for a few moments, pacing up and down the balcony, shaking his head, as though he couldn't believe what he had just heard. "Guarantee that we'll work?" he said again in disbelief, "You want a _guarantee_? You can't treat this like an airtight contract Hermione, finding all loopholes and blocking them. There is _always_ going to be uncertainty. You can try and minimize the amount of uncertainty but you can _never _eradicate it - that's what you're trying to do. Hell, Hermione, the most I could do would be to become a spy for the Order, and you have to take that leap and see where this goes."

She remained silent, studying the cracked marble floor beneath her. Draco's shoes came into view, soon after his black trousers and his jade green shirt, as he lifted her chin to meet his gaze.

"What is your heart telling you?"

"I told you Draco, it's telling me that because of Ron and --"

"I said '_heart."_ That's your mind." Gently he let of her chin and slowly placed his hand on her shoulder. "Do you care for me?"

"Yes," she whispered softly. The sound of her own heart beating at the touch of Draco's hand on her shoulder was becoming deafening.

"You like me don't you?"

"More than I wish I did," she said hollowly, closing her eyes.

"Your heart's telling you to follow this feeling isn't it?"

Numbly, she nodded once.

"Then why won't you just listen to your heart?"

"Because to allow feeling to govern your every action makes you a fool. If there is one thing I have come to realize, it's that reason is a check on the heart's desires, it makes sure I don't get carried away with my emotions, because emotions are _blind_. They have the power to lead you down the wrong path."

"You will also come to realize, that the heart has reasons, that reason itself can't understand."

Shooting her a small but knowing look, he let her go as he turned and walked towards the railing.

"Is there anything else we need to talk about?" he asked into the silence, jolting her out of her reverie.

"No.." she started, her mind preoccupied by what he had just told her, "No..I don't think so my from end at least."

"Me too." There was a brief pause, " We do have to come to a decision."

"I need time. I can't just -"

"I know," he interrupted, leaning his elbows on the railing she had been leaning against when he had kissed her just mere weeks ago, "I understand, I need time too, time to...reflect on everything that was brought up and I'm sure you do too. These aren't easy or trivial decisions we're making. But no matter what decisions you make, though I may not agree with them, I will respect them."

"How much time do you need?"

"I've always known since..this thing," he said lamely, unable to come up with another word for their 'relationship' ," started and I still believe it today. You got the short end of the stick, the harsher burden. You stand to lose more than I do - Weasel's friendship clearly means a lot to you, there is the possible loss of prestige and honour in the eyes and minds of your friends. It is true that the only obstacle I have is my involvement of my parents in Voldemort's camp, which is a compelling reason to stay, but the path for me is much clearer. That's why, whatever time you need is what it shall be."

"I don't want to keep you waiting. Though I have never been on the receiving end, I can imagine what it is like being in the dark so I will make you a promise. Two weeks. In two weeks, I will have decided."

"These are not decisions that have a deadline Hermione," he said, turning around.

"It is not fair to you," she said firmly, the tone in her voice making it obvious to him that she had made up her mind, and he knew he would not be able to dissuade her, "Two weeks. Me and you have two weeks to decide."

"Why that amount of allotted time? Not that I have a problem with it," he said hurriedly as her mouth opened, "I'm simply curious."

"Because if I still feel the same way I do now, I know what I feel for you is real."

"Two weeks is enough to convince you?"

"For me, it is. Is it enough for you?"

"I don't need to convince myself. Two weeks isn't enough Hermione. If this is what it takes for you to be sure, make it a month. I don't want you to be in an uncomfortable position; two weeks isn't enough time. A month."

"A month?" she gasped, as horror began seeping into her chest. It was only then that reality of the situation she had trapped herself in began to painfully sink in.

"A month."

"Well then," he said clearing his throat in the uncomfortable silence, "It's getting late and I'm sure Potter is probably wondering where you are, so we should probably….leave now."

"I'm glad we had this talk." she said softly.

"Yeah..me too," a brief smile crossing his face, as he moved past her and towards the door.

"Hold on. I have one more thing to ask you," she said suddenly and uncertainly, her voice quavering, turning around. Draco stopped in his tracks and turned around, " If I still pick Ron, would you still work for the Death Eaters," she said softly, "knowing that one of them could kill me?"

He was speechless. She was staring at him with those eyes - molten fear burning as bright as fire, resolve as strong as a makeshift stone wall, though he knew if one rock was shifted in the wrong way, the whole wall would come crashing down. He dropped his head, so that his gray eyes only met chipped marble.

"Don't sugarcoat it," she whispered desperately, "Just tell me the truth. _Please_."

"No," he whispered hauntingly, looking her straight in the eyes. He shook his head lightly, "I couldn't. Even then...you mean too much to me. If something happened to you and I had a part in it, I couldn't live with myself."

She took a small step towards him, unsure of whether he would back up, but he just stood there, a mixture of emotions on his face - sheer helplessness mixed with pain. Slowly, she held a hand out before he held one out and gently grasped hers. Inching forward uncertainty, she closed the gap between them, placing her hand gently on his face, slowly tracing the contours of his face, down his cheek, around his chin, and down his throat, before falling by her side. Draco's eyes lowered, she could feel his heartbeat steadily speed up, as she slowly touched him.

"What we did here that night was--" Hermione said, breaking the silence, but Draco dropped her hand and placed a finger over her lips, silencing her.

"_Don't._" Draco's voice was twisted with pain, his eyes shining with unshed emotion. "Please don't say that night and everything that happened between us was a mistake, Hermione."

Their eyes met - cool hazel meeting fiery silver - in an smoldering gaze for just a breath of a moment — then Draco dropped his arm by his side, and he took a small step back towards the door, the look on his face indecipherable.

Hermione stood there immobile, her hand still awkwardly in the air.

"Stay here," he said quietly, "Don't leave. Just in case Filch and Norris are still out scanning the halls. Don't walk back right after me, wait a couple minutes just to be on the safe side, and then leave."

He suddenly stopped at the door and abruptly turned around.

"Here." He reached into his pocket and held out what appeared to be a stretch of shimmery cloth, "Something to remember me by." His lips turned upwards - a hint of a strained and wan smile.

"I don't need a cloak to remind me of you," she whispered, her hands staying limp by her sides, not taking the cloak.

"Take it. Use it to get back safely. Return it to me when..." He stopped, swallowing hard. "Return it to me in a month."

He gently pressed the cloak into her chest. Reaching down, he lightly grasped her hands and one by one crossed them over each other on top of the fabric. Smiling weakly, he dropped his hands. Its silky material flowed over her hands, falling to the floor in waves and pooling at her feet. His brand-new invisibility cloak. For the first time all evening, tears threatened to fall.

Draco said nothing as he opened the door, breaking eye contact with her and lowering his eyes to the floor. Then he paused again, this time halfway out the door and sharply turned. Hesitantly, he reached up and gently touched her face, his fingers lingering on her cheek for a brief moment, his touch soft like that of a phoenix's feather, his eyes roaming her face as though desperately trying to memorize her features. She could see the turmoil and raw torture. He was making no effort to hide them.

He dropped his hand abruptly by his side before turning around and sloping down the stairs, the light from the torches flickering on his back. Hermione stood there staring, not moving, long after Draco had gone. The flickering light from the candles was all that remained, its shadows appearing almost eerie and haunting, illuminating the now-empty corridor.

It was only when he reached his room that he buried his head into his hands and sank down the wall and to the floor in a heap, utterly exhausted -- sheer exhaustion from wanting to kiss and hold her but holding himself back, the pain at his inability to decide, the confusion clouding his mind like sand in a desert on a windy day, and his inability to decipher...anything, everything he said and felt blending inextricably with that from his parents and Hermione, the combination coming to form an opaque mess that he could see no clear and clean way out of.

Hermione slowly shut the door behind her with a soft _click_; overcome with emotion she fell against it, painfully realizing this cloak would be the only thing she would have to connect her with him. Clutching the material against her she delved her hands into material and pressed it to her heart and closed her eyes as the salty drops finally fell, spotting the material, her trembling frame shadowed by the moonlight.

"It wasn't a mistake," she whispered hauntingly into the darkness.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

_Please REVIEW! _

_Until next time,_

_Cheers, AM_


	10. Proditio

_Title: Virtus et Iudicium _

_Author:_ Anjali Malfoy

_Rating:_ T

_Disclaimer:_ I do not in any way, shape, or form own Harry Potter or its characters.

A/_N: __First off, as usual I would like to thank those individuals who have taken the time out to not only read/favorite the story/favorite me, but also to spare a few moments to review._

**AmatuerAuthor****:** This is from last chapter but I forgot to address reviews – nope, this is Latin! I don't speak Latin (wish I could) but I find it rather elegant, and the next tattoo I'm getting will actually be a quote in Latin!

**Theneonpurple:** Thanks so much! Hopefully you bookmarked this since it's a review from an unofficial Fanfiction account – though if you check the story every four days, there is an excellent chance it has been updated.

**I'm home:** Good question – well Ron's two best mates are the Head Boy and Head Girl so it would make sense for him to know it. I think it'd be pretty darn likely that they would tell the password. I probably should have elaborated as to how Draco got Hermione into the Heads' Dorms, but I don't believe Hermione would have told him, at least not right now, so I will go back and edit this soon to make it clearer!

_I have some bad news. __**Don't worry**__ it's not __**that**__ bad, I will finish this story, I promise. It is near the end of the wire for the story and because this is the climax I do want it to be spectacular. That being said, I will not be able to update every 3 or 4 days like I have been the last month or so. When I started this story, I was bent upon finishing it and then posting it without the pressure of updating frequently._

_However, I found myself lacking a little in motivation and your reviews spurred me to continue. This story is nearly complete, but I want the quality of my writing to be as good as it was for the last nine chapters since those chapters were written before I began posting them up. Therefore the chapters will probably be posted up every five to six days, which I still find to be very reasonable. I have an almost-clear picture of how I want this to end and a lot of it is written but it is a diamond in the rough right now and I want it to be as good as I can make it and be something I am proud of._

_Now on with the story…_

**Chapter XI: Proditio**

"_Lucunditas of diligo permaneo tamen articulus. Poena of diligo permaneo a saeculorum. "—__Pleasure of love lasts but a moment, pain of love lasts a lifetime._

Hermione opened the bottom drawer of her wardrobe, staring at the cloak. The cloak she had lovingly folded into fourths while being careful not to crease it, was now nestled in the bottom drawer of her wardrobe. She knelt next to the drawer, her fingernails slowly skimming over the silky fabric - two tears leaked out of the corner of her eyes, falling silently to moisten the shimmering cloth.

A sharp tap on the window scared her, causing her fall backwards with a painful thud against the closet. It took another several taps before she realized the noise was coming from her window -- Ron's distinct owl stood rather ruffled, his eyebrows cocked inwards as if he were displeased with her at having to wait in the thunderstorm. Hastily unfastening the window's latches and ushering the owl in, she ripped the letter from its leg and unfurled the rain spotted letter - anxiety and nervousness were churning through her.

_Hermione, _- she could imagine his concerned face, eyebrows cocked upwards, slightly slanted, his forehead furrowed, creased lines forming - _Is everything alright? You don't usually do things like this. _"I've clearly gotten myself in a lot of things I don't usually do," she muttered darkly._ "I got your owl, what's going on? Is everything OK? I'll see you tonight. I love you, Ron._

Love. Her heart dropped. Before what ever little and remaining courage she had left her, she hastily scribbled her affirmation on the opposite side of the parchment and sending Pig back into the thunderstorm, feeling a slight stab of guilt at her treatment of him when he nipped her finger.

"_It all comes down to whether you will regret it or not." _Harry's words echoed in her head, and for once she had to admit that he had nailed it. It did come down to that one emotion: regret. It'd been a week. It had taken her two more weeks to compose herself and subdue her emotions, though once and a while when she would catch a glimpse of him above the crowd, or in class, the familiar strong lurch of wanting to break down in tears came.

This was a trial by fire. _"Distance makes the heart grow fonder."_ She had heard that when she was a young girl and now she believed in it. And she knew; she knew that if she could still feel for Draco the way she felt for him right now, she was serious about him, and what she felt for him was real. It had been two weeks --- two weeks of – she had no other way to put it – hell.

Draco hadn't touched to her, followed her, or tried to break the pact they had made two weeks ago. He'd speak to her, only in class, when he was forced to ask her for supplies or assigned to work with her in a group assignment. And often times, she just found herself staring at him, her longing to hold and touch him just growing stronger and stronger. The distance from him even though he was oh so close was killing, killing her slowly and painfully inside.

. & .

Draco lay on the black silky satin sheets on his bed, stomach down, staring blankly outside, his grey eyes devoid of emotion and feeling. He was in a trance - not even the claps of thunder and jagged streaks of lightened casting an eeie glow in the sky could jolt him from his stupor. He was stilly fully dressed in his robes, not attentive to the fact that his once pressed and immaculate robes were now visibly twisted and crinkled. Goyle had come in and then walked back out at the sight that lay before him, knowing it would behoove him not to disturb him in this condition. Blaise and Nott had come in after but after a few monotone choice words directed in their direction, they merely left him alone.

That was how he wanted to be. It was as though his mind were separated from his body. His mind was telling him things, lines running through his subconscious like the never-ending stream of rain outside. He was vaguely conscious of them, though unable to feel the emotions associated with him like any normal person would, as though he were oddly detached.

Two weeks of pure, raw torture had slowly passed – each minute felt like it had lasted a million seconds. He had kept his share of the bargain, he didn't speak to her unless it was necessary, see her unless it was in class – _and it was killing him._

He didn't know if Hermione had caught his contradictory statements, or if her purpose was to somehow trick him into saying them. But he had caught them, with her last question. She had somehow asked enough questions and somehow cornered him into saying that he could not and never work with the Death Eaters because the risk of him causing her death was too high.

And then that brought up another question. _If he could not support the Death Eaters, why didn't he just join the Order?_ He was sure that the pain he would feel at causing his parents remorse and hurt for betraying them and Voldemort would be less than that if he had a part however small in hurting her....but he didn't want to verify that. That position was one he could not and flatly refused to be in. He wasn't sure if he could forgive _himself_ if he went against what he wanted.

It had only been a week and like any normal person, he was consumed by his decision and constantly choosing one side and then the other. In one moment, one option looked promising, an outlet providing a bright future but in the very next moment, its luster and shine vanishing like the gold on a fake jewel, slowly but surely chipping, leaving the dull, bland metal behind.

Last night he had been sure, he was going to become a spy for the Order and had even reached the doors of Professor Snape's chambers before a chill overtook him, and he had turned and swiftly walked back, his body trembling from the sheer realization of the significant and importance his decision had on him and his life. His problem was he was trying to find a solution where no one could be hurt, where both he and Hermione as well as his parents could walk out unscathed - he couldn't. Him and Hermione and his parents.

_Was siding with them more important that siding with something that was right? _For just as he had been wrong, so were his parents just as wrong for supporting Voldemort all these years. It was up to him to break the vicious cycle but..._would he be able to forgive himself for betraying his parents? Would it be selfish of him to - _for once, he reminded himself_ - choose what he felt to be right over what was expected as he had been accustomed to doing all these years? _

His gray eyes gazed out into the stormy sky, staring into the darkening sky, as a single teardrop fell silently from his eye, clinging momentarily to his long lashes, before splashing onto the soft satin, disappearing into the black fabric, leaving no trace.

. & .

Hermione paced nervously in front of the boys dormitories inside the Gryffindor Tower, waiting for Ron to come. Her stomach was churning nervously, feeling as though the meager morsels she had had for dinner would show themselves any moment. Finally, she just took a seat on the steps, and leaned her head against the wall, taking slow, steady deep breaths, willing each breath to bring power to her. But just like when she was awake, when she was trying to rest, this situation wouldn't release its claws.

_"This may seem out of line and you are under no obligation to answer it, but did something....something physical….happen between you and Malfoy?" His voice was laced with dread as though he didn't want to know the answer, knowing how much pain it would put him through though he himself was not Ron. But she knew that the bond between them intertwined so delicately so complicated that in Ron's smallest amount of pain and sadness, it caused Harry to feel those emotions in their entirety, each raw emotion penetrating his soul and mind as though he were the one affected. _

_His shoulders sagged downward. He didn't need her answer, he could see it. Her eyes had widened in shock and fear and her whole body had tensed up before she collapsed against the fireplace. _

_"I want to ask for his forgiveness," she said finally, her voice shaking, tears beginning to roll again down her face,"But forgiveness is only asked for mistakes. Harry, what's the punishment for selfishness?" _

_With that she knelt before him on her haunches where he sat on the sofa. She bowed her head in front of him, her hair falling around her face like a curtain, sheltering herself from the storm of emotions that were passing through his face. Her head hung loosely, as though she were a mere pupil, waiting with bated breath for the instructor's punishment. _

_"I'm your friend Hermione," he said, smiling sadly lifting her head up so he was looking her in the eyes, "I can't punish, I can only give advice. Leave Ron."_

_As a strangled noise of what appeared to be a sob and a shocked gasp all in one left her mouth, she jerked slightly back, her eyes wide, as if lightening had struck her, igniting her every cell. _

_"You don't love him. By staying with him, you're preventing him from finding his love....and yourself too. I don't blame you, Hermione...love and death, both are uninvited guests. You can have no control over them." _

After mentioning to Draco she would probably end her relationship with Ron, her talk with Harry confirmed it. Deep down she had always known she needed to end this, and Harry's words had only set it in stone and given that need shove to act on it.

And that's why she was here.

Wearily, she opened her eyes, starting slightly when she saw Ron sitting across from her, leaning against the wall, arms wrapped around his knees, a small smile on his face.

"Ron," she gasped, slightly out of trepidation, slightly out of shock, "Why didn't you tell me you were here?"

"You looked really peaceful, I didn't want to disturb you," he said simply, jumping up, and then pulling her up.

Holding her close to him, he tilted her head up so as to kiss her, but she twisted her head slightly away in his grasp, quickly scanning the Gryffindor common room. Ron frowned slightly, but didn't comment as she turned around and walked further into the room searching for a stretch of room allowing them to talk privately.

"What's going on Hermione," he said, walking up behind her, "Who are you looking for?"

"Just for some privacy," she mumbled softly.

"I'm sorry, I didn't hear that?"

"Sorry. Um….it's too crowded here," she muttered more to herself than him before turning sharply to Ron, forcing herself to not just run out of the portrait door that was tantalizingly standing in front of her, "is there anyone in your dorm?"

"No...." he replied slowly, slightly unsure of where this was going, "Neville's out with Luna and Dean and Seamus are playing Exploding Snap out here…or at least they were," he corrected himself, as he saw no sight of the two boys in the common room. "They might be upstairs now – I just got back from seeing ---"

"Can we check and see if they aren't there?"

"Sure," he said, still in the same confused and slow voice, "Wait," he said suddenly, putting a hand on her shoulder, halting her from moving, "What's going on Hermione? What is this all about?"

"I'll let you know when we get there," she said, praying that he would just follow her lead, moving fast behind him and up the room.

Ron stayed behind her for a moment, just staring at her, an odd expression on his face, watching her run up the stairs as though she needed to out as much distance between them as possible. He had a vague idea of where this was going, an explanation of why she had been acting so strange, but he was praying he was wrong. He had noticed her aloofness, her sudden reclusive behavior, but he had been unable to pin it anything specific – of course he had asked Harry about it, but he had been unhelpful, though for some odd reason, he had a feeling that he couldn't pinpoint, but it felt as though Harry wasn't being entirely truthful or holding something small, yet so fundamental from him.

He hadn't been able to spend as much time with her since the project had been assigned. Their already limited time had been cut even shorter with that epic Quidditch final. It was then he began noticing her changed behavior. At first he had thought she were simply angry at his negligence of their relationship. He knew sometimes he took her for granted, and if that were the case - and he was praying that's all it was - he would anything to make it up to her.

Pushing open the door, to her delight and trepidation, she found that the room was in fact empty. As usual, Neville's side was spotless and well-kept, while the other three boys' belongings were strewn across the room and the hardwood floor. So pre-occupied was she that all of this escaped her eye as she walked in, shoving several of Ron's robes into a corner of the bed, before beginning to fold them neatly.

Behind her, she heard Ron shut the door, the feeling of nervousness multiplying tenfold in her stomach, as she folded Ron's robe, even faster, cursing silently to herself as she realized she had folded it diagonally.

"Well," he said, walking up to her and placing a hand on her shoulder.

Hermione gasped as she yanked the fabric at his touch, causing the material to rip under her touch.

"I'm sorry Ron," she wailed slightly, turning around to face him holding up the now ripped robe.

Ron looked bemused at the look of sorrow on her face. "Hermione," he said gently, taking the garment from her, his smile vanishing as she could see several tears forming in her eyes – pulling out his wand, he muttered a spell, before holding it out, the offending tear now flawless, "It's fine," he said softly, tossing the robe to the side, and gently pulling her into his arms, resting his head on hers. He frowned as he felt her body shake against him, harder and harder, though he could tell she was trying to suppress them.

Hermione gave up, letting her suppressed tears fall even harder, unable to stop her body from shaking, from the sheer guilt and helplessness she felt at that moment. Ron's sweet gestures were doing _nothing_ to stop the guilt that was tearing at her heart. She could feel Ron gently smoothing her hair, and rubbing her back comfortingly. After a couple moments, she took a couple deep breaths, steadying herself.

"Sorry," she laughed thickly, wiping the few remaining tears from her cheeks, " I don't know what came over me."

"Don't be sorry," he said gently, reaching down and wiping her cheeks, "Come, sit."

Still sniffling slightly, she seated herself in the middle of his bed, as Ron sat directly across from her. Playing with a tissue in her hand, she stared down at her hands, unable to look him directly in the eye.

"Talk to me," he said softly, reaching out and grasping her hand gently, "Are you ok? It's hurting me to see you like this."

Hermione swallowed a lump in her throat, for some reason simply unable to bring the words from her heart to her mouth.

"Ron..I.." she started, feeling him shift in acknowledgement, feeling his gaze on her, "we – I," she signed burying her face in her hands, "Ron…I owe you an apology for the way I have been acting the last couple days. I've had a lot on my mind and I think I acted wrongly in taking it out on us."

"You don't need to be sorry," he smiled, rubbing her arm, "I'm sorry too, I didn't pay as much attention to you as I should have before Quidditch."

"No, no, Quidditch is fine, and this only comes once a year," she said vehemently, "There is no reason to be sorry for that."

"Quidditch doesn't come before you Hermione." The sincerity in his voice brought more tears to her eyes, as she bent her head forward, trying to shield herself from his curious gaze.

"What's been bothering you?" he asked, when she didn't respond, the same feelings of uneasiness and uncertainty rising. "Please say something," he pleaded.

"I need to say something before I can't," she said swiftly and in one breath, looking up at him, completely disregarding his question. She needed to get this out before too much time passed, because the more time passed, the higher the chance of her not breaking up with him and giving in to the very, very small doubt that remained. Ron's sweet behavior was becoming harder and harder to overcome.

He nodded dumbly, swallowing hard, somehow knowing where was going but praying he was incorrect.

"Ron—" her voice slightly breaking, "Look, I didn't want this to happen. It's not you…it's me. You're an amazing man, any girl would be lucky to have you -- "

"You're breaking up with me," he interrupted, his question coming out as more of a statement. Her words could only mean one thing and her ensuing silence told him everything he needed to know.

"Why?" he asked simply, his voice twisted with pain, as he hesitantly reached out to touch her hand.

The look in his eyes brought on another wave of tears.

"Ron…I"

"Was it because I wasn't putting as paying as much attention to you?" he asked desperately, now gripping her hand rather painfully, just unable to accept that it was _really_ over, not now, not yet, "Because I'd do anything to make up for that Hermione, I'd do anything. Just give me another chance."

"It's not that…" she said meeting his gaze with her own tear-filled eyes.

"Then what is it? What did I do? What happened?"

"You didn't do anything wrong. It's not you Ron. _Believe me,_ it's not you."

"Then what went wrong? Why are you breaking up with me?"

Hermione swallowed hard, knowing just _why_ she was ending this, knowing just how much pain those words would inflict. And once she said them, she could never ever taken them back. "Because I don't love you." Even as softly as she said those words, they were loud enough to hear.

At those words, it was though his heart had shattered into a million pieces. It was as though he had ceased to exist, his spirit somehow disconnected with his body. At those words, something small inside him, yet so deeply entrenched and imbedded in his mind and soul had been broken irreparably, leaving behind a gaping and hollow wound.

"I'm sorry Ron. I really am."

Nodding numbly to himself and swallowing hard, he let go of her hand, letting it fall on the bed before slowly climbed off the bed and walking to the door to the balcony as if in a trance, and out into the balcony. He stood there, staring distantly into the night sky, his hands clenches tightly around the moist metal railing of the ledge. Blinking rapidly, he tried to hold back the flood of emotions that was begging to come coursing down his cheeks. It took every ounce of pride and courage to not collapse against the railing in a heap.

Hermione buried her face in her hands, unsure of just what to do, what to say. _What could she say?_ From where she sat, she could no longer see him – all she saw was the door to the balcony swinging lightly in the wind, bringing in the scent of rain.

She had known Ron wasn't going to take this lightly but it was only now that she understood the magnitude of his love for her, and if she had though the guilt she had felt before was unbearable, it was nothing compared to what she was feeling right now. The pain she had imagined he would feel was nothing the pain his eyes and face had shown – and knowing she was the one who had put those tears in his eyes was stifling her. She had to see him, had to finish talking to him, because she couldn't leave him out there by himself, leaving him to fend for himself and deal with the pain she had caused.

"Ron," she said hoarsely, unsure of just mood he would be in. He was just standing there, staring out into the stars, giving her an unpleasant jolt as she remembered her own position on another balcony just weeks ago.

He said nothing, his back still turned to her. Hesitantly, she took a small step forward, shivering as the chilly wind hit her. She let out a small squeak as she slipped a little on the wet pavement.

Hearing her squeak, he turned around quickly and walked several steps towards her, before stopping abruptly when he saw she was okay. An awkward silence settled between them, both of them knowing just what had happened.

In that very moment Hermione somehow knew that he had completely forgotten about what had just happened, and for the first time all night, felt that maybe she had a chance to get through to him. But the feeling vanished as quickly as it came as the same look of veiled resignation and anger settled over his face again and walked back to the balcony.

"Can we at least talk about this?" she pleaded, knowing he wanted to her to go but she unable to leave. She couldn't, she wouldn't leave him alone in this state, and not without the closure she needed from him. She couldn't leave until he knew that she still cared for him.

"There is nothing for us to talk about," he said icily.

"Please Ron, don't be like this," she whispered, feeling tears pricking her eyes yet again.

"What do you want me to be like," he laughed bitterly, "Do you want me to be happy?"

"Ron…"

"How long have you felt this way?"

She swallowed hard, praying Ron wouldn't connect the timing with Draco. "About three weeks."

"Three weeks?" He was stunned. "_Three weeks?_ And you're telling me this now?"

"I wasn't sure," she whispered, tears pricking her eyes.

"Sure about what?"

"Sure that I didn't like you anymore," she whispered, "I thought it might just be a phase I was going through."

"What made you realize that this wasn't some bloody…._phase?_" he spat.

"Last night." She had no intention of saying that it had been Harry that had finally given her the extra push – the anger and betrayal Ron would have felt at that moment would be incomprehensible. Bringing Harry into this situation would be no good – Ron was in no position to realize that Harry had no fault in this manner. But knowing Ron's brash and hotheaded mood, the chances of him placing some blame on Harry was extremely high. And at this a moment, Ron's temper was not a risk she even wanted to flirt with.

"Should I even ask how you came to that decision?" he laughed hollowly, the harsh and discordant sound echoing in the night sky.

"Three weeks is far too much time to feel the way I was feeling," she said reluctant to mention that Draco and the extent to which she had become emotionally involved with him had made her realize she could no longer stay with him.

"And how were you _feeling_," he spat, still facing the night sky. Hermione could hear the slight tremble in his voice, knowing he was doing everything he could to stay strong. "What horrible feelings were I making you go through?"

"Ron, _please_ stop being this way," she said desperately, trying to keep any sign of irritation from creeping into her voice. Even despite herself, Ron's behavior was beginning to graze slightly on her nerves. It was only her own knowledge that Ron was hurting that was keeping her from snapping at him. But if this continued, even she would lose her cool – as much as she wanted to be empathetic towards him, she could not and would not let him walk over her. "Believe me, if I had a choice I wouldn't have chosen this. I tried to keep our relationship strong, but I couldn't keep it going. I tried the hardest I could Ron, and that's the most anyone can do."

Hermione's words seemed to abate his anger slightly – his shoulders relaxed a little, his head drooping a little lower. He took a deep breath in, before burying his face in his hands and letting out a loud yell.

"But what happened? Did you just stop caring for me –"

"I still care for you – I always will," she said, not knowing what more she could do to make Ron realize that how much this was hurting _her_ as well. In this moment, she didn't know what he felt, what he was thinking…and a part of her felt that she might have lost him forever. "But I stopped liking you romantically."

"Why? I mean, is there someone else?" he asked, ignoring her sentimental statement. "I want the truth," he said turning around from the ledge for the first time this evening, "You owe me that much." When she looked into his eyes, she saw just how much fear for her answer that they contained.

"I'm not doing this because I want to be with someone else." She wasn't lying – not really. Whether or not she and Draco ended up together, there was no way she and Ron could be together. And like she had not mentioned to him she had spoken about this with Harry, it would have to be a freezing day in hell before she mentioned Draco. Speaking of hell, if she did mention Draco, all hell would break loose. Her already slim hope of him understanding would become essentially non-existent. "It just happened Ron – when, why I don't know. It just happened. I don't know what more I can tell you, except that you had no part in it."

"So you're sure there is absolutely no chance for us," he asked again, looking at her desperately. "Just think about it once more, Hermione. "

"No, Ron, I'm sorry," she whispered yet again. "I'm sorry."

At those words, he felt something so fundamental inside him shatter, a foundation so innate and inherent splinter into a million pieces; he had never felt as helpless since second year when Harry had left him to shift the stone wall, leaving him alone to only imagine what horrible outcomes could be happening with Ginny. That had been the most painful and trying time of his life, sitting helplessly in the dark, not knowing just what was going on, and his inability to do _nothing_ about it. Just like then, right now, he had no power and it was only now that he realized he was once again in the dark, standing helplessly, unable to anything about her decision.

Without another word, he just nodded at her, looking at her with crushed eyes, eyes once alight with mirth and love but now filled with anguish and torture, rendered delicate in the wave of helplessness, shadowed in a sea of agony.

"I think you should leave now," he said, eerily calm, turning around.

"Talk to me Ron."

"I have nothing to say," he said curtly, his voice clipped.

"Just go Hermione," he said louder than before. "JUST LEAVE," he yelled when he saw her take another step in closer from the corner of his eye. "GO."

Hermione stood there for a moment, praying he would change his mind, but when he stood there defiantly, back still turned to her, there was nothing she could do but turn around and walk out, each step driving a dagger deeper and deeper into her heart.

As he heard her footsteps recede, the noise becoming fainter and fainter as the distance between them grew until all he could hear was the beating of his broken heart, all he could feel was the shaking of his shoulders, and all he could see were the tears that were blurring his eyes, cascading down his cheeks in endless torrents.

How do I say goodbye to someone I never really had? Why do my tears fall so endlessly for someone who was never really mine? Why is it I miss someone I was never really with?_ And why do I love someone whose love was never really mine?_

. & .

Hermione didn't turn around when the portrait door behind her shut. She knew it was Harry, and she also knew where he had just come from. For some unknown reason, she couldn't get herself to face him, feeling a weird sensation of shame overpowering her as she realized Harry had just witnessed the pain Ron was enduring.

Harry sighed as he entered the Head Tower after dropping a rather drunk Ron back at the Gryffindor Tower, making sure that Neville and Dean would take good care of him. Because their break-up was only a couple hours old, not that many knew about it, though he was sure by the morning, the whole castle would know of the terminated relationship. His heart dropped when he caught sight of Hermione sitting cross-legged on the sofa. She looked lost, the light from the embers casting a glow on her blotchy cheeks. He knew she had been crying all evening.

As much as he knew Ron was hurting – and he had seen the extent of his anger and pain this evening, he also knew her heart was hurting just as bad. Ron couldn't see it right now, just as Harry expected, even though he knew Ron had truly loved Hermione. His temper and passion was making him blind to her plight, though he knew he would eventually come around.

He wasn't expecting them to go back to the relationship they had had their first six years here at Hogwarts – it was impossible, but he could and would in no way fault them for the changing relationship they shared. He'd seen them grow and blossom in their relationship, and he knew he would not be in a position where he would be forced to choose one or the other.

"Still up?" he said softly, coming around the sofa and taking a seat next to her, shivering slightly as the heat from the now dying fire hit him. The room was warm and cozy, though Hermione felt none of the heat transferred to her.

"Couldn't sleep," she answered hollowly, still not taking her eyes off the glowing embers.

"He'll be okay you know," Harry said softly, answering the question she hadn't asked though he knew was burning inside her, hanging unsaid between them.

"He must hate me right now," she said rather forlornly.

"No, he doesn't. Upset, yes, hurt, definitely, but he can never hate you," he said firmly.

"You didn't see him Harry," she laughed bitterly, "You didn't see what I did to him."

"He's strong. Stronger than you give him credit for."

"What did he say? Was he angry?"

"Look, Hermione, try and look at it from his point of view. He loved you, he _really_ did love you – and he thought you loved him too. And it crushed him when you didn't. He's angry right now, yes, a little bit at you, and hurt. But give him some time. Time will help heal his pain."

"He still wasn't blaming himself right? I tried so hard – I said it repeatedly that it wasn't his fault, and I meant it," she whispered, trying hard not to cry again, "He didn't do anything wrong – everything he did was right, and it was my fault this happened."

"It's only been a couple hours since it happened – he isn't in that phase where he can step back and look at the situation objectively. He's way too emotionally in there. He _knows _ you didn't mean for this to happen, he _knows_ you're hurting too, he _knows_ you tried your hardest but he's so emotional right now, that _he just can't see it_. It's none of your guys' fault. No one is at fault," Harry said, trying his hardest to make her see reason. "You have to listen to me Hermione, I _know_ how to evaluate this objectively – you guys can't. Not right now."

"You're right," she sniffled, clasping Harry's hand in hers. "You're right. He'll see it soon too right?"

"He will," he reassured her, squeezing her hand tightly, "But don't count on him realizing it as fast as you."

"Yeah," she laughed thickly.

"Do you –" he started hesitantly, "Do you want to maybe talk to Ginny about this?"

"Ginny?" she asked, her eyes widening, sitting up straight as though someone had passed a shock through her. "_Ginny_? Harry, have you gone completely barmy? That's Ron's _sister_ – she's probably furious with me."

"No," he said, shaking his head, "No. Well, maybe you shouldn't mention Malfoy's part in this mess. You haven't understood her fully. I'm not Ginny's first boyfriend – her last yes," winked Harry cheekily before becoming serious again, "but she is sensible. She's strong, impartial, and logical. She may have the hot-headed temper of her brothers but she's also systematic and level-headed." He paused for a brief moment. "I get it – its awkward talking to your exes' sister about him, but she might also be able to get through to Ron."

"Maybe later – but I can't right now."

Harry nodded understandingly before pulling her in for a hug.

Hermione sighed as she found her enveloped in Harry's strong arms. She buried her face in the crook of his neck and shoulder, breathing deeply trying to relax herself. It felt nice hugging him – it'd been so long she'd gotten a hug and it just felt so good – there was no other way she could put it. She remember when she used to come home from school after a bad day and her mom would give her a hug and tell her things would be okay in the end, and Harry's hug made her feel the same way.

"You're strong – you've been through worse," he whispered, "Don't let anyone else tell you otherwise."

She didn't say anything – she didn't have too. Harry knew how much that comment meant to her. Knowing that everything would work itself out in the end made it immeasurably easier to get through the hell he knew she was going through.

"Where did you go?" she asked softly after a few brief moments of silence.

"We went to Hogsmeade," he said heavily, "He was bent upon going to a pub – I couldn't stop him. And no, don't blame yourself," he said sharply, when he felt her stiffen noticeably against his shoulder.

"How long were you there?"

"About an hour. You sure did manage to pick good timing – a night when the Prefects got patrol duty." Hermione laughed slightly at his slight attempt at humor.

"What did he say?"

"Frankly, after the first four drinks, he became a little hard to understand. But, " he said rubbing his forehead tiredly, "he basically just was asking why this had to end. Not wondering why or how it ended, more just upset it had ended. And he did ask if you left him for someone else." At those words, Hermione sat up straight

"And…" she said apprehensively, "And what did you tell him?"

"I said I didn't know but I doubt that was why you broke up with him."

"I couldn't tell him about Draco."

"You'll have to tell him eventually."

"If we end up together. If not, there is no point in Ron knowing about his part in the matter."

"That is rather deceitful Hermione," he said a little sternly.

"There are some things that are better kept secret Harry," she whispered brokenly. "Ignorance is bliss. I can't bring myself to hurt Ron anymore than I have Harry. I can't."

"What will you do if you do end up with Malfoy? You can hardly keep that secret."

"Then he'll have to know – but he won't know we started liking each other while I was with him."

Harry swallowed hard, unsure if he should bring up what Ron had said while he was with him in Hogsmeade. Yes, Ron had been rather sloshed when he had said those things, but Harry knew better, and that Ron's actual feelings were revealed when he had a certain amount of alcohol in him though he was praying Ron's anger and hurt were speaking, not him.

"_Has she said anything about another bloke," he slurred, downing another shot of liquor. "I asked her, but she said no. Has she ever said," wincing slightly, "anything to you about another guy?" _

"_Would it matter if she likes another guy?"_

"_Yes," he huffed slamming the glass down so hard it shattered, "Fuck," he swore as a drop of blood ran down the length of his finger before falling onto the table. _

"_She can't not date someone else ever again Ron. You can't realistically expect that – just like you'll date someone else later."_

"_I know," he admitted begrudgingly, idly examining a piece of broken glass. "It just hurts, and I'll be fine. But that doesn't mean she can date just anyone and everyone."_

"_Like….Malfoy?" _

"_Malfoy," he spat venomously, slamming his fist down on the table, causing the glass laying on the table to suddenly jump into the air an inch or two. "Malfoy is everything I've hated. No," he looked up straight into Harry's eyes, "If Hermione dated Malfoy, she would have to pick. Me or him. Simple as that. Malfoy cannot have the one person I have loved. Though, " he laughed, a rather crazy expression in his eyes, "Like she would ever fall for that prick." _

"_You don't mean that. You're angry right now, you don't know what you're saying."_

_Ron growled and tossed several empty candy wrappers on the floor next to him. "She'll have to make a decision, and if she chooses that ruddy bastard, I want nothing to do with her. Tell her that," as he lifted a finger directly into Harry's eyes before swallowing another shot of firewhisky. _

"I won't lose him right?" For the first time, Hermione looked up at Harry, and it was then that Harry realized just how much Ron meant to her, and how much it had it had hurt her to let him go. The pain shining in her eyes was the same if not more than the hurt he had seen glistening in Ron's eyes the last two hours.

"No," and he meant it. Ron cared too much for Hermione to let her go, just as Hermione did for Ron. He knew at the end of the day, while Ron would not be able to move past this just yet, he'd heal.

He also felt deep down that when Ron had said he would want nothing to do with her if she chose Malfoy it had been his anger and hurt talking. When push came to shove, Harry knew Ron would realize just how much he valued her friendship and was praying Malfoy would not be the reason for their severed relationship.

"I'm sorry Harry," she said suddenly. "I didn't think about how this would affect you. I know we've put you in an awkward position, an uncomfortable position, and we should have thought about this before any of this ever happened."

"I'm not in a position where I have to choose one of you two. It does hurt to see this, because I know we can't go to how we were before this happened, but every relationship changes as time goes on and you can only adapt."

Pushing tears back yet again, Hermione lay her head back down on Harry's shoulder; it suddenly occurred to her, just how badly she wanted Draco's arms around her at that moment and just how big and aching the gaping hole in her heart that his disappearance had left behind really was.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

_Please REVIEW! _

_Until next time,_

_Cheers, AM_


	11. Virtus

_Title: Virtus et Iudicium _

_Author:_ Anjali Malfoy

_Rating:_ T

_Disclaimer:_ I do not in any way, shape, or form own Harry Potter or its characters.

_A/N: _

_First off, excuse my reposting of Chapter 10 numerous times – it appears to me that somehow Fanfiction is messing up a bit and somehow did not post it correctly. Sometimes it shows up and sometimes it doesn't, which is rather bizarre. I've been getting reviews on Chapter 9 that it is hasn't been working though I have received reviews for Chapter 10. But either way, here is Chapter 11 and let me know if you can't access it! _

_I just want to apologize for taking slightly longer that I usually do to update though the reason for the delay might be unexpected. My favorite tennis player and celebrity ever – __**Roger Federer**__ – lost the US Open Monday night to Del Potro for the first time in five years. He really should have won it, and that's why it hurts. I have a bad and unfortunate habit of getting really emotionally involved with him and have a tendency to take his losses at Grand Slams really hard, even though he does have 15 Slams, which is the most ever. I wasn't in the mood to write Monday or Tuesday but I owe it to myself and you to write the best chapters possible so I didn't want to rush this. I saw him when I was 16 at the 2005 US Open and I'm 20 now, so I've clearly only gotten more obsessed. Unless you're super into sports and that too into a particular team/person, I'm sure the majority of y'all will find my reason insane, but that's why the update took a little longer. No need to worry, for y'all who don't know tennis, the Grand Slam season is over, so I won't be in a funk until next February for the Australian Open. ___

_On a bright side, I did use the sadness and anger I was feeling at Federer's loss and my feelings towards him for the conversation between Ginny and Hermione later in this chapter so I hope it conveys and spruces it up! _

_And as a general response to a lot of reviews I've gotten: The biggest comment I've gotten is that I've made the characters true to what J.K. Rowling wanted them to be, and that's the biggest goal of my story. I wanted to try and make it something plausible that could have actually happened in the books, and many of you believe it could have. I just wanted to let y'all know that your reviews made all the hours I spent mulling over possible scenes and actually writing this story worth it. _

_Now on with the story…._

**Chapter XI: Virtus**

_"Interdum perceptum quispiam ut est dignitas having , decet necesse perdo panton alius " -- Sometimes to gain something that is worth having, it becomes necessary to lose everything else._

Theodore Nott knew there was something slightly off with Draco. He walked calmly into Draco's room later than evening, fully expecting to see the other Slytherin lying motionlessly on his bed like he had been earlier. Truth be told, he was not worried – but rather intrigued – by Draco's mood over the last week. He was shrewd boy, Theo.

They weren't close – hardly. No one in Slytherin was close with each other. The alliance forged between them could not be called relationships; they were bonds, bonds of debt of service, of power and subordination, built on intimidation and mutual respect and necessity. These bonds were not build out of the goodness of their hearts but rather on the benefits that could be reaped – the more benefits, the more powerful and fruitful the alliance. Slytherins were merely acquaintances, the foundation of each and every relationship built solely on the fact that they all are Slytherins and the majority of their parents served the Dark Lord. And like Draco, Theo had also been forced by his parents in the Dark Lord's army.

To his surprise, Draco was sitting at his desk, calmly working, all signs of anger and frustration gone, wiped clean leaving no trace that it had even existed, like a wound closing in upon itself. There was a limit of moping around and worrying over things he himself could not manage or control. Hermione would make her decision and while he was apprehensive as to what her choice would be, it made no sense for his life to cease. It had been two weeks, and was about time he focused on his duties and responsibilities.

"What is it?" he asked dully, still focusing on the Advanced Charms paper he was engrossed in annotating.

"Granger dumped Weasley."

Those three words sent enough shock waves through his body that he was sure he had become paralyzed. Emotions flooded through him, overlapping and coursing through his veins – relief, confusion, passion. Then they were all wiped clean, like the waves gently erasing all marks from the sand, leaving a smooth slate of pebbles, with no indication that there had been any marks. His quill fell limply from his hands, splattering the paper with dots and smudges of blue ink, but he paid no attention.

"How do you know?" His voice was eerily calm, devoid of any emotion, though his heart was pounding faster, increasing rapidly with each passing second, wanting to make sure it was actually true, praying with his soul that Nott wasn't lying to him, before he began analyzing just what this meant.

"Crabbe just informed me. He and Goyle were at Hogsmeade and they had just left Honeydukes," a rather evil smirk passed over his face, "and they noticed a rather sloshed Weasley exiting the pub. He was annoying many of the bystanders really, with his loud and obnoxious comments."

Draco nearly scoffed in disbelief when Nott mentioned Crabbe's name. "Crabbe? Crabbe? Nott, you should know better than tell me the nonsense he blubbers. Are you sure Crabbe heard correctly? We all know what his brain turns into when he's holding a pile of sweets."

"Yes, he's sure of it."

"Why are you informing me of Weasley's private affairs? What made you think I'd be interested?"

Nott seemed rather taken aback by the sudden venom and anger in Draco's voice.

"You always love finding opportunities to make him miserable," he stated, as though it were obvious.

"Well you've done your job. You can leave," he said in a clipped tone, turning back to his paper and picking up his quill with – to his dismay – trembling hands.

Recognizing the tone in his voice, Nott shrugged before turning around and leaving.

After hearing the door behind him close, Draco dropped his quill onto the paper, his mind going to Hermione of its own accord. She _had_ told him two weeks ago that she was going to leave Ron, but a part of him hadn't really believed her. He knew she was strong, he knew she never said things she didn't believe in, but it had only become clear to him that night just how much Weasley meant to her.

That was the difference in the relationships he had known and seen with the relationships he saw Hermione had. He hadn't realized until now that the bonds he had with other members of the Slytherin house couldn't be considered friendship – friendship was a vow, a vow of love, trust, compassion, and faith.

Part of him was being selfish, wanting to persuade her that the Weasel's reaction should have no bearing on her decision but to do so was selfish, and after what he had seen the last week, comprised a fundamental piece of her happiness – and he in no way wanted to deprive her of that. As of now, there was no meaning or significance he could place on her dumping Weasley. Yes, it meant that she in fact no longer liked him and he knew – with a rush of pride frayed with vindictiveness – that it was due to him.

But it didn't mean she had chosen him for sure, though this knowledge had lit a flame of hope inside himself which refused to extinguish no matter how hard he tried to persuade himself that the flame was premature and could be extinguished by the smallest of breezes and would leave him more hurt than ever.

. & .

It seemed as though everyone had learned of Hermione and Ron's terminated relationship. As expected there were some wild rumors spreading around as to why and how they had broken up, gathering speed and momentum, like the wind, though the majority of the castle had lost interest after a couple hours of endless gossip.

Ron sighed as he walked out of the Great Hall and whispers inevitably followed. He snorted to himself, more than half of the rumors that were loud enough to reach his ears, were utterly false. He had half a mind to straighten them out and set the record straight as to what had actually happen, but there was no point. Causing a scene would only serve to make this a bigger deal than everyone was already taking it.

Had they not ever heard of a break-up before? Yes, they were part of the bloody Golden trio, but at the end of the day, they were just two students in Hogwarts, and in this moment, all he wanted was peace. Time alone for him to reflect on what happened last night, time alone to heal gradually from the hurt , pain and anger that were still coursing like poison through his veins.

He wasn't angry per se with Hermione. He was angry at the _situation_, at what had taken place last night, not her but at this point in time he was unable to distinguish between the two. He didn't want to say anything he would regret to Hermione, not last night, not now, not for a while. That was why it was better for them to have their space. Because right now what they had was still was a friendship, a friendship as fragile as glass that could easily be shattered with words that were said rashly and brashly in anger, and words, once they are said could never be taken back. And he under no circumstance wanted to risk that – she meant too much to him, and still wanted her in his life.

Needless to say, he had not told her that, nor did he know to approach it. He did not want to use Harry as a makeshift owl to convey their messages back and forth. As it is, Harry must already be confused as to what to do because of this mess, and he had no inclination of making matters worse for him. As of now, the scrutiny both he and Hermione were getting was becoming more and more oppressive as the seconds passed by. Of course, he could always discretely send her a letter by owl, and he had come very close to doing it last night, but had stopped himself at Harry's behest. At this point, all he could do was wait for the pain to pass.

Hermione was grateful for the low profile Ron was carrying around the castle. In spite of the anger and hurt she knew he had felt last night, he was in no way attempting to malign her reputation or subject her to ridicule. That alone in itself gave her the hope that after some space between them, he would eventually calm down and gain a new perspective on that night. What she was worried most about was not about the rumors flying around, or the mean comments some Slytherins were enjoying throwing at her – it was the uncertainty of how she and Ron would first interact.

She couldn't exactly avoid him forever, nor did she want to. It wouldn't be about the stress or the strength she would feel - it was about running away, and her parents had taught her to face the truth. But she couldn't stop worrying about the possible meetings. _What would happen if they accidentally ran into each other in the corridors? How would they cope if they were accidentally paired together in class? What would she say to him? What would he say to her? _

"Hi," a soft voice in front of her said, startling her from her thoughts.

Hermione looked up, her sadness turning to shock when she saw Draco standing in front of her. He was just leaning up against the pillar of the staircase leading down towards the Potions class. Nervousness pooled in her stomach, a jolt of excitement, apprehension, and fear He was staring at her with an inscrutable expression on his face.

"Hi," she replied. She was a little suspicious as to how he was present where she would be usually be in twenty minutes.

"How are you?"

"How do you think I am?" she snapped without meaning to. An awkward silence fell between them momentarily. "Look," she sighed, dropping her head and frustratingly running a hand through her messy hair, "I'm sorry – I didn't mean to snap at you. I just –"

"You don't have to explain," he cut in, in the same level voice. "I know."

They stood in silence for a couple minutes, Hermione staring at the marble steps, trying to avoid staring into his eyes, or any part of him, the tension multiplying every second. Draco was staring at her, taking in the way her hands were nervously playing with the hem, her shifty eyes at the marble floor.

He knew how much pain she was in even though she had been the one to leave Weasley, and deep down he knew part of her reason for doing so was for him. While he wasn't sorry that she had left him, the pain that was so clearly etched in her eyes, posture, and smile was cutting into his heart, deeper than anything.

Part of that pain was also due to him – he knew at this point it was hurting her to be away from him. It was taking every ounce of self-restraint not to close the gap between them and just sweep her up into his arms. He couldn't and wouldn't because he wanted her to be sure that she wanted to be with him, and not doubt herself.

"How have you been?" she said finally breaking the tense and awkward silence, cursing herself as she awkwardly halted and paused several times in that small question.

"I've been…alright," he said lowing his gaze down a little bit, and Hermione saw the flicker of pain in his eyes. "Just keeping busy with schoolwork, NEWTs…what about you?"

"Same…same…" she said hurriedly. "Are you staying for the long weekend?"

In the last week of February, in honor of all the dead Aurors fighting for the Light, the Friday and Monday had been given as a holiday out of respect. Some of the students stayed in Hogwarts while the majority of them went back home for a rare visit with their families.

"No, I prefer staying here, there's nothing really there for me…" he said avoiding her gaze.

Hermione nodded, though it looked as though she were nodding to herself and not him. "Yeah me either…my parents are going for a small trip that weekend."

"Hermione," Draco said, his voice suddenly dropping several decibels as a tear slipped down her cheek.

"I'm fine," she said, brushing the wayward tear aside. "Really. There's just –"

"Stop Hermione. You can't lie to me."

At those words, a few more tears slipped out of her eyes. As her teary eyes lifted to meet his, something inside him snapped. Maybe it was the sheer and utter despair and helplessness shining in her eyes, maybe it was how broken she looked as she stood there in front of him, maybe it was their proximity…maybe it was all three. Either way, the expression in her face cut into him so deeply that he forgot how he said he would not cave in – he didn't care anymore.

She cursed silently as she couldn't keep the tears at bay. The internal struggle he was experiencing was clear to see. She felt so _ridiculous_, standing there, tears streaming down her face, feeling so childish and weak. Praying to the heavens, she wished the ground underneath would just open and just swallow her whole. Hermione's breath caught in her throat as the expression in his face changed and took a step forward, closing the distance between them. In spite of all the terror and misery she was feeling right now, the familiar feelings of lightheadedness and passion were still there.

"I can still hug you right?" he asked hesitantly, holding out his arms towards her.

"Draco..." she whispered, staring at his outstretched arms, wanting nothing more than to just run into them, to just feel the arms she had been craving so much last night around her.

"It's just a hug," he said softly, though the expression in his eyes told her that he needed this just as much as she did. She couldn't hold it any longer. With another choked sob, she closed the distance, her body slamming into his like a small weight, wrapping her arms around him, and clasping her wrists with the opposite hand.

In that moment, as he felt her body slam into his with such force that he nearly staggered back, he knew. He knew he had never loved anything in his life as much as he loved her. Yes, it had only been a month, a month in which the majority of it had been fights and talks, but after a week of not seeing her, touching her, talking to her, kissing her, he knew, he damn well knew that he loved her.

Fiercely, he wrapped his arms around her shoulders, reveling in the feeling of her body touching his. He breathed deeply, relaxing as the familiar scent of her jasmine scented shampoo filled his nostrils. He wished he could stand there forever, holding her, not having a care in the world. In those few brief moments, it seemed as though the rest of the world had fallen away, and all that mattered was him and the girl he held in his arms. As the clock chimed, he knew students would be pouring out. Gently, even though it shattered his heart to do it, he pulled back.

"Don't cry," he whispered, wiping her eyes gently.

Hermione's eyes stayed closed, as he cupped her waist with his hands. She could feel his breath on her lips, her arms now limply lying by her side. Even as horror consumed her, part of her wanted him to kiss her, praying he would though hoping he wouldn't.

Draco marveled silently to himself as the light from the candles flickered over her cheeks, illuminating the trails her tears had made, her red lips….he leaned in, his lips only a few millimeters from hers. He could feel her breathing harder, her heartbeat speeding up every second. Draco groaned internally, he had to leave -- any moment longer, and Merlin help him, he wouldn't be able to stop himself.

"I'll see you in class," he said softly, reluctantly, letting her go. "Take care of yourself."

"You too," she said, opening her eyes, and looking down, feeling a flush come over her as she realized just how close she had been to kissing him.

With another look and slight smile, he turned around and ran up the stairs without a backwards glance. As soon as he knew he was no longer in her view, he collapsed onto a bench and buried his head in his shaking hands. Part of him was cursing himself for giving into his emotions, but he couldn't help himself. And he knew she felt it too – he could feel her desire and her attraction that lingered even when he had turned around and left. It gave him hope, even after a week she clearly still felt for him. That much had been clear when she had hugged him, gripping him tightly around his waist, until he had been sure he would be suffocated from lack of oxygen circulation. There was hope. And that hope was all that was keeping him going.

Hermione watched as he walked up the stairs slowly, the flickering lights from the candles making the lightening from outside seem more menacing. Tears welled up in her eyes, as he vanished from sight as he turned the corner. The tears now sliding down her cheeks, she slid to the ground at the base of the steps, unable to keep up the façade. He had done everything right, he had done everything she had asked him too – _then why did she feel so empty inside?_

. & .

Harry glanced worriedly over at Hermione out of the corner of his eye during Potions class. Even through the thick clouds of colored smoke, her red eyes and raw cheeks from days of crying were plain to see. He felt his heart drop to his stomach in pain and pity as he saw her glance to her side at Draco, who was working feverishly on his potion.

A sudden urge rose in him to speak to the Slytherin, ask for his part of the story. Up until now he had taken Hermione's word for it, and though he trusted her judgment, love could be blind to which even Hermione was not immune to, and he needed to hear it from Malfoy himself. A strong feeling of possessiveness rose in his stomach – Hermione was like a sister to him, and as such he had a responsibility to make sure Malfoy was no way, shape, or form taking advantage of her. Weeks later, he was still wary and still slightly mistrustful of the Slytherin, and _nothing_ Hermione could say or do would completely eradicate it until he heard and talked to Malfoy himself.

He knew the anger and betrayal Hermione would feel if she knew he were going to confront him; she would take it as a gesture of his mistrust in her decisions and beliefs, and to her that would be a low blow. But he had no other option, no other way of knowing what truly was happening unless he knew both their parts of the story. He hadn't told Ginny about Malfoy yet – it had been hard but he knew where the boundary between love and friendship. It was a fine line, yet nonetheless a line, and he knew when to cross it, and this was not one of those circumstances.

So Harry waited patiently, purposely brewing his potion extra fast, not caring if the product was below satisfactory level, knowing how proficient and excellent Malfoy's skills were in Potions. To his delight, he did manage to finish before the Slytherin, though he suspected the quality in potions would be significantly different. Careful not to seem to overzealous, he casually filled a vial and submitted it to a rather surprised Professor Snape before cleaning up and packing his belongings and leaving the dungeons. Hermione had understandably been a little taken aback, as she was only three-fourths done but luckily did not suspect anything out of the ordinary.

Luckily for him, there was no one in the corridor right outside the dungeons. He _had_ finished early – classes were not due to be done for another half an hour. So he stood there, waiting patiently, expecting to see Malfoy coming up the stairs any moment.

Draco sighed as he ran up the stairs. He had managed to finish early – Potter had finished about the same time as he had, which was rather surprising to him. He sneered inside, sure that the level in the potions they had turned in had to be light-years apart. As he turned the last corner, he saw the silhouette of someone leaning on the banister of the stairs.

_Potter_. His lip curled upwards as he saw Potter straighten up as he caught sight of him. Potter had been waiting for _him_ – that was the last thing he needed right now. Truth be told, part of him had been waiting for Potter to hound him – it was realistic to think that Hermione had told Harry. However, a small part of him had also believed that because he and Potter had such a nasty rivalry, she wouldn't have told Potter out of fear for his reaction. But there could only be one reason Potter was waiting for him right now, and suddenly it clicked just _why_ Potter had finished his potion in such a hurry. There could only be one reason, and that was to harass him.

Draco merely looked coolly at Potter and then swept by him without a word, down the corridor and towards the Slytherin quarters, determined to drop his books, eat and go to the library.

Harry rolled his eyes as Malfoy pushed by him without a word, swiftly heading down towards the quarters. He had half a mind to just leave it be, but he had not sacrificed a decent potions grade to not get what he wanted. He glanced back several times. Malfoy was now ten feet away from him, swiftly reaching the end of the corridor, which would lead to the Slytherin quarters.

"What are you playing at Malfoy?" he called, before he could stop himself, turning around, the curiosity finally getting the better of him.

"I don't understand what you're getting at Potter," he said coldly, stopping in spite of himself his back still facing Harry berating himself as his mind automatically jumped to the conclusion that Potter knew what was going on.

"Come on," he snorted walking forward until he was only a few feet away from Malfoy, "Surely you don't think I'm that dense after all these years."

"Stop beating around the bush and just come out with it," he snapped, turning so he was facing Harry, his patience slowly wearing thin, like threads on a threadbare sheet, barely staying together. "I am not in the mood for your petty guessing games."

"You've been acting weird for the last two months," he said exasperatedly, ignoring Malfoy infuriating smirk and comment of "watching me closely are we now Potter?", "You don't badger me or Ron anymore, you barely act as though we exist, and even _you_ should be able to understand why we wound find this weird about enduring six years of insults and endless attempts to sabotage us - all of which failed if I might add - not to mention how you obviously go out of your way in Potions and Transfiguration to touch and ask Hermione --"

Draco had been merely ignoring Harry's comment, brushing them and occasionally rolling his eyes, but at the mention of Hermione's name, he leapt up as though someone had lit a match under his feet, before grabbing Harry by the scruff of his robes and shoving him against the wall.

"What the _fuck_ are you doing," Harry yelled, his voice echoing in the empty corridor as he threw Malfoy's arms off his neck.

"Are you that thick Potter," he hissed shoving him again against the wall, "Speaking about Granger in a corridor that leads to the _Slytherins_?"

"No one would be around this time Malfoy," he snapped back, though a slight blush colored his cheeks at his small blunder. "Now _explain yourself_ Malfoy."

"I have nothing to say to you," he said coldly, roughly letting go of Harry's collar, the momentum shoving Harry back into the wall again as he turned again to walk away.

"I don't believe that," Harry said dangerously, his voice lowering, reaching out and grasping Malfoy's robes, so as to prevent him from leaving. "Trust me when I say this Malfoy. You _will_ answer my questions, even if I have to hex you to get them."

"You don't intimidate me Potter," he snapped yanking his robe from Harry's grasp. "You will have to try _much_ harder to scare me. You will have to put me through much worse than idle threats."

Sizzling green eyes met fiery cold silver ones, determination countering defiance, anger blending with stubbornness, pity melting in the face of pain.

"I don't think so," Harry said, his voice surprisingly much cooler and softer, "I doubt anything I could put you through could be any worse than what you're enduring right now."

At Harry's words, something inside him, something fundamental, something so inherent and instinctive shattered. Draco unconsciously took a step back and his stomach clenched tightly and painfully as Potter's words sank into his brain like water seeping into a torn rag -- it became clear as crystal that Potter knew _exactly_ what he was going through. In that moment, utter and bitter humiliation swept over him, coupled with a strong rush of hatred and disgust.

Harry started at the look that passed on Malfoy's face at his words. A flash of agony flitted across his face, like lightening in the midst of a heavy storm, rendered delicate in the wave of helplessness, shadowed in utter despair, though the very next second was blank, erased quickly and irreversibly like delicate sandcastles built on the edges of the ocean wiped away by the cruelty of the harsh waves.

"Have it your way Potter," he finally said, his voice raw with bitterness, his eyes orbs of darkened and crushed onyx, veiled with bitterness and anger, rendered delicate in the realization of helplessness.

"She is like my sister," Harry said slowly and coldly, determined to come for the answers he had been seeking, refusing to allow the sudden and dramatic change in Malfoy's demeanor to faze him. He knew that Malfoy knew exactly of whom he was talking about. "She _is_ my sister – and I have a duty to protect her. Do you feel anything for her, for anyone really, besides your own narcissistic feelings?" Harry bit his tongue when he said that, his voice harsher than he meant it, words blunter than he had intended. Anger flashed in Draco's eyes, replacing the bitterness and sorrow that had been lying there, unable to mask it with his usual casual arrogance and elegance.

"Clearly I do, because I wouldn't be seriously considering becoming a spy against Voldemort if I didn't care about her, now would I?" he hissed dangerously, losing his temper which was now so short due to the activities from the last month. All the color drained from his face and he opened his mouth several times like a fish gasping for air, when he realized what he had just let slip and to _who_ he had just let it slip.

"You're considering becoming a spy _against _Voldemort? Aren't you worried about what your _father_ might think?" he asked after blinking his eyes several times in surprise and shock. He winced visibly as his voice came out slightly harsher and bitter than he had intended to, roughly frayed at the edges with curiosity and interest. Truth be told, he never had really gotten over the incident in his second year, and after his feelings had turned from platonic to romantic for the young Weasley, he found it harder and harder not be haunted by what could have happened that year. On a basic level, he couldn't help being curious - it was interesting just how far Malfoy was willing to go just for Hermione, _especially_ when in matters concerning his Death Eater father.

Instinctively, he gripped her hand around his wand, ready to whip it out of his waistband at the first sign of Malfoy moving. Instead of the blond shouting a few choice insults followed by a vicious attempt on his life, a reaction Harry had predicted, a small sad smile spread across his face, almost causing Harry to fall backwards in shock. After it became clear to him that the Slytherin was in fact not planning to hurt him, he loosed his grip on his wand and buried his hands in his pockets, more than slightly unnerved by the foreign look on Malfoy's face.

"Sometimes Potter," he said finally, his voice was soft yet hard, somehow commanding attention in the empty corridor, "to gain something that is worth having, it becomes necessary to lose everything else." With that Draco turned on his heels and left the corridor, his billowing black robes swirling in his wake.

Harry paid no attention to the gust of wind that Draco's robes had created, causing his hair to become even more disheveled. He merely stood there, staring at the passageway in shock, long after Malfoy was no longer there.

All those small changes he had seen in Malfoy suddenly fit together like the individual pieces of a puzzle coming together to form a masterpiece– how he would stare into space whenever the potion needed time to simmer, how the smallest spasm of pain shot through his eyes at the merest look of Hermione, how his shoulders now were lowered as if he in defeat. Lonesome, like individual pieces of a puzzle, they meant nothing but when put together thereby allowing the whole picture to be made, the whole story that the hundreds individual pieces were yearning to convey, became crystal clear.

In that moment, it occurred to Harry just how painful the separation from Hermione must be for _him_. His first instinct was to harm Malfoy when Hermione had told him between sobs how Malfoy had suggested she and he were going to wait a month to make sure what she felt for the Slytherin was truly real. The hell she was going through was apparent but now until now had he realized how much it must have hurt him to make that suggestion. But for her love, for her peace of mind, he was willing to go through it for her, and that to Harry spoke volumes.

And somehow he knew, even in that fifteen minute "chat", that Hermione had been right – Malfoy had somehow scratched and scrubbed out his old self, though the raw wounds it had clearly left behind were plain to see. The look of horror and regret that had flitted across Malfoy's face when he admitted that he was considering becoming a spy for the Order had been more than enough – even Malfoy couldn't feign the look that had flashed across his face at that moment. _Not even Malfoy. _

And the _expression_ that had flashed across his face at his comment – he had realized the full impact of his words on the ego and self-pride of the Slytherin. His words had been blunt, like boulders of marble slowly but surely chipping away at his pride and dignity, leaving permanent cuts and bruises, sharp like lasers, cutting delicately yet acutely and penetrating so deeply, until a shell of his former self remained. He had in no way intended to humiliate or embarrass the Slytherin, in truth he had meant to empathize and offer support but after years of enmity he just did not know how to start.

_He had changed. _There was no other way to express it. _Draco Malfoy had changed. Good Lord._

It was only when the clock signaled that class was now over that the sound jolted him out of his stupor that he turned and walked back to the Head Tower.

. &.

Back in the Head Tower, Hermione had somehow found herself with Ginny. Unknown to her, Ginny had come over after Hermione had retired to bed last night and stayed the night with Harry. Understandably, like she had told Harry last night, she had been avoiding Ginny and she had been rather paralyzed when Ginny had unexpectedly walked out of Harry's bedroom.

"Ginny!" Hermione exclaimed, her face going ashen, her voice frayed with confusion and apprehension. "What…what are you doing here?"

"Me and Harry are going out this evening, it's our anniversary," Ginny responded, her voice curt and clipped, as she walked around the sofa where Hermione sat, practically paralyzed.

"Oh." Hermione just sat there awkwardly, feeling the tension mounting between her and the redhead, knowing she must look so silly right now. "Well, I'll uh, have fun this evening, I'll –"

"It's fine Hermione," interrupted Ginny, now rummaging furiously through her book bag. Hermione crinkled her noise slightly as several loose leaf parchments crumpled as she looked around. "Ah here it is," muttered Ginny to herself as she extracted a bottle of what appeared to be crimson nail polish, before straightening up and facing a startled Hermione. "Look," she sighed, running a hand through her hair, "You don't have to be awkward or nervous around me – I am Ron's sister but I don't want our friendship to suffer."

"How can you be so calm, after knowing what I did to your brother?" Hermione said, seating herself back onto the couch and wrapping herself up in a blanket.

"I think Mum's a little bummed out by it, I think she believed you and Ron would eventually get married one day," Hermione bowed her head slightly, "…. but I understand why you did what you did." Hermione looked at Ginny sharply, at where she sat on the carpet across from the table.

"No one will understand why I did that," Hermione said curtly.

"Try me," Ginny said just as sharply, shaking the nail polish bottle from side to side and then up and down.

Hermione remained silent, staring into the crackling fire, shaking her head.

Ginny laughed softly, almost reminiscently. "I still remember the first time I met Harry," she said, her voice becoming lower as she stared somewhere past Hermione, "I don't remember a time when I've been more ashamed or embarrassed of my behavior – of what I turned into when I laid eyes on him." Ginny laughed again to herself, nodding, "I thought I had lost any chance of landing him, there could be no way he would be able to see past that moment of childish behavior. I still remember how I felt," she said meeting Hermione's eyes, "It's hurts enough to love someone and not be loved enough in return, but what hurts the most is to love someone and never ever find the courage to tell him how you feel."

Ginny looked at her hands again where they lay nestled on her lap, "So I tried, tried to forget him – Dean, Seamus, Cormic – you know, at some point in each relationship, I felt that maybe, maybe I was over him, that what I had felt truly was an infatuation, but," she paused, closing her eyes, as her voice dropped to a whisper, "but every single time a relationship ended, I went back to Harry. But I tried to hold on to each of those relationships, praying that I could find the love I wanted in them. You may not think I understand how you feel, but I do."

Hermione stared at her, as it dawned on her that Ginny had fallen in love with Harry at the young age of 11 and had not managed to rid it. And she too had prolonged those relationships with the other boys because she had desperately wanted to find love in a boy she had, and not in one in a boy she did not have.

"You tried to fight it?" she asked hollowly.

"I did. Every day of my life," Ginny smiled. "But I realized I was fighting myself, fighting what I wanted, what I needed. But I didn't know what to do. Waiting for him to realize how I felt was painful. Trying to forget him was painful. But not knowing which one to do was the worst kind of suffering. I ended up not having to do anything – you remember what happened last year."

"And if he hadn't," she breathed, "If he hadn't, what would you have done?"

"What would I have done?" she laughed, idly twisting the cap of the bottle, "I'd like to think that I would have confessed my feelings to him, just flat out told him that I loved him. I'd like to believe I'd eventually be strong enough to face my fears of rejection. I'd like to say with certainty that I could come to terms with the fact that there was a good chance I had unknowingly and unwittingly given my heart to a man who couldn't love me back. But I can't. I can't say I would have done that."

"What would you have wanted to do?"

"I'm strong Hermione." Ginny laughed again, though somehow her laugh sounded more sinister and dark, "It takes more than Cruciatus curses to betray the ones I love. I can tolerate insults directed at my family and me. I can handle six overprotective brothers and their attempts to sabotage any relationship. But I can't handle the scars love causes. I'm not that strong," she said, looking up at Hermione, her golden eyes glittering with tears. "Because the scars that you can't see are the hardest to heal. If Harry didn't love me, the problem wouldn't be that I couldn't force him to love, it would be that I couldn't force myself to stop loving him."

It was only in that moment that Hermione realized just how much the youngest redhead had loved her best friend for seven years.

"I know it's confusing," Ginny laughed thickly, "I probably said ten contradictions in the last minute, but that's how I felt, that's what love does to you."

"Then how did you know, what convinced you that you loved Harry?" Hermione asked desperately, searching for a shred of concrete evidence to convince her once and for all that she loved Draco.

"I knew. I just knew," she said simply. "The only way to describe love is indescribable. It's passion, a force so potent, a drive so alluring, a sensation so overwhelming, a feeling so intense it knocks down walls we build to try to protect our hearts. It's something that can't be described, it can only be felt. It's too intangible to be labeled, it can only be experienced."

"But how did you know he was the one?"

"Because," Ginny paused, staring off into the distance, "Because, everything of his becomes mine, becomes a part of me and my soul. Because when he's happy, I'm happy. There is nothing I wouldn't do for him," a tear fell from her eye, dangling tantalizingly on her brown lashes, before falling like a teardrop to her navy skirt. "I would do anything to take away all the sorrow he's had to face. Anything. "

"I understand what you're saying Ginny," Hermione whispered, and what scared yet excited her the most was that she actually did.

When he hurts, when he cries, it's as though, your heart's been cut into pieces. You're being cut from the inside, ripped into shreds, and those wounds are the hardest to heal. They _never_ heal -- another wound just reopens them up again, deeper than before, and its harder to stop the blood flow. And, it's just, its _always_ a thorn in your side, pricking you, somehow managing to cause a little pain and draw a little blood. It's like a parasite that just latches onto you, and just sucks your life and happiness. And try as hard as you can, you can never get rid of it.

"But I doubt you asked that question just to hear about me and Harry," Ginny said shrewdly, "Out with it, what's the real reason for asking these questions?"

Hermione faltered., racking her brain, trying to come up with a plausible reason which wouldn't imply that she had fallen for another boy while with Ron. "You think you love someone don't you?" Ginny asked, beating her to it.

Hermione's silence told her everything she needed to know.

"Did this happen while you were seeing my brother?" she asked coolly.

"Look, Ginny, I – you have to understand," Hermione said haltingly, "I didn't mean for it to happen, I wanted to keep what I had with your brother. You have to believe me," she pleaded. "Please say something?" she asked, when Ginny stayed silent.

"I'm glad you're telling me all of this," she said finally, no sign of anger or disgust in her voice, "It's just hard for me – I'm a girl and a sister. And you have to understand my position. It hurts me to see my brother go through what he's enduring now, and as his sister, it makes _our_ relationship a little awkward. But as a girl, as someone who tried to find love in someone else, I understand that sometimes you can't have control over how you feel, and…. I think you did do the right thing of leaving him before it could become more intense and involved."

At Ginny's words, she felt a wave of relief of happiness wash over, smoothing some of the trepidation and sorrow she had been feeling, soothing her nerves like smooth waves taming the rough edges of the boulders.

"How do you know if you truly love someone?"

"You can't ask someone else to tell you that you love them," Ginny said seriously, unscrewing the bottle of polish, and delicately applying one layer, "Love to some people means you are happy with them, love to others means you love them even when they're physically far away. For some, love means longevity, but for me, I know I love someone, when I always end up going back to him. It means it's more than skin deep." She paused, "And you know what? You just know. You just know, in the bottom of your stomach, after all the other relationships whether _something _just felt wrong, that this feels right. It's that little feeling you can't explain, that you try to push away as nerves, but it's just telling you that this relationship isn't right. You have to trust your gut feeling too – not everything is rational."

Hermione digested what Ginny said, as she finally realized with an uncomfortable jolt that she would have to decide herself as to whether or not she loved Draco. If what had happened in the hallway was any indication, she was in love with him.

"But you can't decide if you don't stop fighting it," Ginny said, now painting the nails on the other hand, "Unless I'm horribly wrong, I will guess that there must be drawbacks to loving this boy, whoever he is, as far as I can tell you're not sure if you love him. But what I'm also noticing is that you're blurring the lines -- I don't think you should let the pitfalls of dating him decide whether you love him or not. If it really is this bad to love him, decide how to deal with that after you let yourself figure our if you love him in the first place. You have to fight battles one at a time, not simultaneously. You'll never get any answers that way."

"If I could I wouldn't have had this happen –" "I know," Ginny interrupted, "I know."

"Who is this person?" Ginny asked, finally breaking the silence. "Do I know him? – oh and no I don't mean that in a menacing way," she said, smiling for the first time all evening.

"Please don't ask me these questions," Hermione pleaded, "I don't want to lie, but I can't divulge that just yet."

"Fair enough," Ginny said, holding her hands up, "Alright. Well then, what's the problem?"

"Well first, it just looks bad if I date someone just days after a previous relationship – what me and Ron had does deserve more respect than that." Ginny pursed her lips, before nodding in agreement, "And then," Hermione took a deep breath, "I'm not sure if I have a future with the other boy."

"That's why you date?" Ginny asked, looking a little surprised, "You check and see if you have a future."

Hermione buried her face in her hands and groaned – suddenly an idea struck her. "Do you remember the question you asked us in Hogsmeade about a month ago? You asked us if we would choose the man we didn't love but security that it would work, or the man –"

At that moment, Harry entered the Heads Towers, looking a little strained but pleasantly surprised to see his girlfriend and best friend talking rather comfortably next to the hearth.

"Hey," Hermione said surprised at how late he had come after class, "Where were you?"

"I had some things I needed to take of," he said dismissively, "Gin, could I talk to you for a moment?

"I'll be there in a minute," the redhead responded, screwing the cap back on the bottle and blew gently on her nails.

"Wow, sorry. I didn't mean to disrupt," Harry said hastily, "I'll be in my room."

"Where were we?" Ginny asked, turning back to Hermione.  
"Hogsmeade, the question you asked us –"

"Yes," Ginny said, straightening up suddenly, "Yes, I do remember asking that – you seemed hesitant that night giving that answer, as I recall."

"I was – I didn't think I'd end up having to choose between the two choices, and even now, I'm just not sure which one makes sense."

"You've made your decision," Ginny stated bluntly,

"No, I haven't," Hermione said defensively.

"But didn't you?"

With a small smile, she stood up and threw her bottle of nail polish back into her bag before disappearing into Harry's room. Hermione went ashen, as the full impact of Ginny's words hit her. _She had made her decision, albeit unknowingly._ She had decided that no matter what, she couldn't be with a man who loved her, a man who she knew she could never love even though she hadn't meant to. Because if that option was her decision, her relationship with him would have been enough, and _she wouldn't have left Ron._

* * *

_Please REVIEW! _

_Until next time,_

_Cheers, AM_


	12. Iudicium

_Title: Virtus et Iudicium _

_Author:_ Anjali Malfoy

_Rating:_ T

_Disclaimer:_ I do not in any way, shape, or form own Harry Potter or its characters.

_A/N:_

_First of all, I'm sorry about the longer update – I'm back in college and I've been super busy. I promise to get this story done though. Promise. _

_Second of all, this is the __**penultimate**__ chapter of this story. I'd take to say that it has been an absolute honor and pleasure to write a story that many of you have enjoyed. Yes, it has not been as successful as my other Dramione story __**Seeds of Seduction**__, but I think this has been written much better, and therefore,am proud of it. While we're on the vein of Seeds of Seduction, I am planning to rewrite it, because I love the plotline and I wrote it when I was a silly 16 year old, and want to improve it. But since I have class starting this Thursday, I doubt this will take place until December when I have a break, and very likely not until next summer. _

_Third of all, I was surprised to see how many people could relate to the tennis post! Man! Those reviews honestly excited the hell out of me! So being a crazy-ass fan, I had to respond to some of those reviews, but because of how long the responses ended up being, I put them at the end of the chapter: _

_Now on with the story…._

**Chapter XII: Iudicium**

_"Sententia est a acer knife ut cuts tersus quod rectus indecision a plumbeus unus ut hacks quod lacrima quod coma ragged ora secundum is." -- Decision is a sharp knife that cuts clean and straight; indecision, a dull one that hacks and tears and leaves ragged edges behind it._

Draco walked throughout the dark hallways of the dungeons, each step echoing in the empty hallways. His frame was hidden in the dark shadows. The flames in the candles that were attached into the chandeliers, which were suspended by chains to the curved ceiling, flickered, creating scary shadows on the stone walls.

Draco stared resolutely in front of him, paying no attention to the shadows or the completely empty halls. The magnitude of what he was about to do had not set in just yet. All he was focused on was each step towards Professor Snape's quarters. His grey eyes glittered with determination, each step exuding authority and purpose. He had no intention of turning back – he had come for business and questions and had no interest in leaving until he was satisfied.

He began to noticeably slow down as a pair of doors came into view at the end of the hall. To his displeasure, nervousness and anxiety began to pool in his stomach just as it had the last five times he had scraped enough courage come here.

But the last trip had been a week ago, and things had dramatically changed since then. He had become more resolved to become a spy for the Order, but he needed to talk to someone, and the only person he could trust was his Godfather. No one else. For all the bluntness and rudeness Snape exuded, Draco knew very well that he had a soft spot for him, and only him, and would give him sincere and blunt advice on what to do. It was Sunday, and he only had until this Friday night to decide just what he would do.

With or without Snape's alliance, at this point, he was _almost_ sure he was going to betray his mother and father and forge a relationship with the Order as their spy. But he was on the fence right now, swaying to one side, and deep down he knew Snape could be the final gust of wind, which would push him to one side.

It was now or never. He stood in front of Snape's door, wringing his hands. He stretched out to grasp the handle but wrenched his hand back in. Breathing in deeply, he steadied himself, trying to shove aside the nervousness that was beginning to overtake him. He punched the wall next to him, relishing the feeling of pain as his knuckled collided with the jagged stone wall. This was getting ridiculous, absolutely _preposterous_. It was _Snape_ he was coming to talk to for crying out loud. In the past seven years, he had walked this hall countless times to seek his advice. His godfather had never let him down then, and he knew he wouldn't let him down now.

But deep down, there was fear. Fear that he wouldn't get the answer and encouragement he wanted. If Snape told him he shouldn't become a spy for the Order, then…he was right back where he started. On the other hand, if he supported Draco's decision, then he was in good hands. _But did he want to take that risk? _It had taken him two weeks to decide he had in fact wanted to – the worst that could happen was him being where he was several weeks ago, unsure and tormented. But the best outcome? Peace. The potential benefits outweighed the probably downfalls and was the only reason he was standing here now in front of Snape's door.

Shaking his head in disgust at his behavior, he raised a slightly trembling hand and rapped on the door before his nerve left him. With bated breath, he waited, each ensuing second only serving to make him more and more apprehensive. Closing his eyes, he steadied himself, taking deep breaths to slow down his heart, which felt like it pounding against his chest so fast that it hurt.

With an unpleasant jolt, he realized it was now midnight and the chances of his godfather being asleep were rather high. He was about to turn heel and leave, not sure of whether to be relieved as that he no longer had to talk with him or angry that he had yet another sleepless night of stewing over this matter when he heard footsteps approaching. Realizing just how dumb he would look if he were to run away, he stood there firmly planting his feet down, and burying his hands in pockets, trying to achieve what would be an unassuming look like he always wore.

The door creaked open as Professor Snape stuck his head out, looking slightly annoyed though the look vanished when he saw Draco standing there.

"Draco," he said, rather surprised, "What brings you here at this hour?"

"I needed to talk to you," Draco said, surprised at how calm he sounded, "I didn't realize how late it had become. My business can wait until tomorrow if you're otherwise occupied. My apologies for disturbing you." He stood there with bated breath, still unsure of which response he wanted.

"Apology accepted," he said, opening the door wider, "Come in. I was merely perusing several articles."

Draco cautiously entered the room. Unlike the rest of the Slytherin quarters and the dungeons, Snape's quarters were surprisingly very comfortable. He shrugged off his cloak and gently hung the silk fabric on the hanger.

Snape coolly swept by Draco over to the fireplace. A pair of black leather armchairs was on either side of a plush sofa. The fire in the fireplace cast a warm glow over the dark brown jagged stonewalls. With a casual wave of his wand, the papers and books on the table and sofa neatly piled themselves on top of each other onto the table in front of the sofa. He raised an eyebrow as he noticed Draco still standing in the doorway, looking rather agitated and uncomfortable.

"Take a seat," he said gesturing haphazardly at the plush armchairs in front of the crackling fire." Why are you still standing there?"

"So what is this urgent matter that forced you to seek my advice so late?" Snape asked coolly as his godson took a seat across from him.

"Are you attending the Dark Lord's meeting this month?" Draco didn't know why he was starting out with this question – he wasn't entirely sure if the man sitting across from him, staring at him with beady eyes would turn him in to Voldemort if he knew he would become a spy. If there was one thing he had learned, in the world of Death Eaters, you could trust no one but yourself. The smallest sign of weakness was pounced on, like a shark sniffing out the scent of blood. Fear is their currency. Power is their game. Submission is their goal.

"Cut to the chase Draco. Do not waste my time. You do not genuinely expect me to believe that concern propelled you to come here at such a late hour, do you?" Snape said shrewdly, his eyes narrowing.

Draco swallowed nervously at his godfather's realization. He was at a loss – he wasn't sure exactly where or how to start. He opened his mouth unsure of what he was going to say but Snape beat him to it.

"Are you having second thought of serving the Lord?" he asked bluntly.

If Draco was surprised at his statement, he did an excellent job of not showing it. His face stayed impassive and his eyes blank. In fact the only sign letting him that he had indeed hit on something was Draco's sudden and small twitch.

"As a matter of fact, I am," Draco admitted, relieved for the smooth transition into what he had wanted to discuss, "though for reasons that may be difficult to understand and comprehend for you."

"Whether or not I understand these reason is left to be seen and that," paused Snape, as though to emphasize his next words, "can only be determined if you inform me."

"It is becoming impossible for me to condone what the Dark Lord has done and is presently doing. I can't find it in my heart and mind to follow him."

"How long have you harbored such feelings?" he asked, walking over to the small mini-bar and pouring himself a glass of firewhisky. "Care for a drink Draco?"

"Firewhisky, --about five or six weeks, give or take a week."

"I see," Snape commented lightly, handing Draco a small glass of the amber liquid, "Five to six weeks," he paused momentarily, seating himself back down, "Correct me if I am wrong, but I believe that was approximately the time you began working with Miss Granger correct?"

Whatever response Draco had been waiting for, that was most certainly not it. He hastily covered his choke with a hacking cough, taking another sip of whisky as if to brush it off as though he had merely swallowed too much in one go.

"As a matter of fact it was, but I fail to see the relevance of Granger," he said coolly. He had no intention of bringing in Hermione just yet. Disobeying his parents and his supposed destiny for a girl was one thing in it of itself but to defy his "orders" because of a girl he had abhorred was a completely different matter.

Snape shot him a pointed and withering look. "Do I need to dignify that with a response?"

Draco downed the rest of the drink, relishing the fiery trail it burned down his throat before setting it down and leaning back against the sofa.

Snape set the entire glass vial of firewhisky in front of Draco giving him a knowing look. "Something tells me you'll be needing this."

"Thank you," he said begrudgingly, as he filled another glass. Snape was watching his expectantly, waiting for him to speak.

Sighing, Draco took a sip of his drink. "How did you know Granger was involved?" he asked, all but admitting that Hermione had in fact been responsible for his metamorphosis.

"That's not important. It's not necessary to know what she did. She finally managed to get under your skin didn't she?" Snape said, no hint of humor in his voice.

He wasn't angry or disappointed that Miss Granger had instilled in Draco a sense of empathy and humanity. And if he were right, - as he often was - it wouldn't be wrong for him to say that Miss Granger hadn't just showed him a different path, but had also attracted his attention.

"She did," Draco said simply though his voice was twisted with pain. He couldn't fight it – there just wasn't any point. No good could come out of it. "She did."

At the sound of pain in his godson's voice, he felt a sudden jolt of pity towards the boy sitting across from him. Because in that moment, he saw himself mirrored clearly in the lost and confused Slytherin.

He too had loved – loved someone with all his heart, soul, and mind, purely and genuinely. Lily Evans. He had tainted his love, blackened it and distorted it beyond repair when he formed an alliance with the Dark Lord. Every day was a reminder of her, of the reason he now worked for Dumbledore and the Order of the Phoenix. Her son was the ultimate symbol of brutal realization of what could have been his had he not taken the wrong path.

But Draco had a chance; his soul, his love was not yet soiled by the dark and ugly deeds of a Death Eater. He had a choice, a choice between regret and lamentable decisions and his own desires and wishes. The punishment he had been dealt the last eighteen years of his life was for eternity like Sisyphus had been forced to roll the stone up the hill where it slipped back down forever. Like Sisyphus he had no other option, no second chances. He was cursed until his death, his knowledge that he himself had thrown away the most important person in his life was like a sharp thorn in his side, constantly pricking and slowly drawing blood from him. And he couldn't bear to see Draco follow in his steps – Draco had the answer, knew what he wanted, that much was clear to him, but there was enough uncertainty that it was holding him back.

But he had to make sure – be absolutely certain that he was indeed positive about Draco was hinting at. He as a member of the Order, a sworn spy for the Order of the Phoenix had a burden of not divulging his cover. Voldemort was a master of trickery, a born expert in silent and powerful control. He had seen the number of souls that had been tricked and coaxed to doing the Dark Lord's will. His powerful abilities sent a feeling of misplaced awe and fear through him for the majority of those souls did not know what they were doing. Even though this was his godson, he had a sworn duty to not discriminate, not unless he was damn sure that the Slytherin in front of him was for real.

Draco started in shock and surprise as a look of pure disgust and anger crossed Snape's face. It was only now that he realized exactly what the Gryffindors had to deal with only a daily basis. Exactly_ why_ was he giving _him_ that look?

"What kind of a man are you?" Snape sneered, staring at Draco, "A _woman_? You're doubting the Dark Lord for a _woman_?"

Draco simply sat there stunned, not sure exactly why or how his godfather's behavior had suddenly changed. But this confusion was only momentary as Snape kept berating him mercilessly.

"Is this what you're father raised you to become? Love is for the weak, for the submissive, for the _pathetic souls _who have no willpower or strength," Snape hissed. Internally he winced, as he saw the twinge of shock coupled with pain flash like lightening across his godson's face.

At the sheer power and venom in his godfather's words, rage and humiliation like he had never felt before began building up. He could feel his ears turning red, his face flushing from suppressed emotions- rage at Snape's words and slight insinuations at his supposed weakness, and utter humiliation at himself for so easily baring his heart and emotions.

But Snape wasn't finished, the insults and words leaving his mouth like a leather whip lashing his exposed and uncovered back, the hatred and disgust in his voice leaving raw, red stripes as a memento from his words. Every word was like a salve, coating the already-smarting wounds, making the pain sink deeper and deeper, penetrating his body, mind, and soul.

"I never thought I'd live to see the day that my own godson comes to be a coward. _My own godson - a coward!_ I am ashamed to think that I had thought of you as a godson."

That was the last straw. "SHUT UP," Draco yelled, suddenly standing up and throwing his glass down on the hearth, where it shattered into small shards of delicate crystals. The fire glinted off the glass, highlighting the jagged sharp edges of the shards. Snape now stood their silent, silently realizing he had finally managed to shove Draco over the edge. " JUST SHUT UP. I love her ok? I LOVE HER, and there is _nothing_ I wouldn't do for her. "_Nothing_," he repeated, his chest heaving, hurting from the emotion that was aching to come out, but caged inside. His chest and heart were hurting, as though someone had placed a heavy weight on it, making it impossible for him to breathe. His breath was coming out in short gasps, his eyes staring defiantly in Snape's as if daring him to mock him any further.

"You have the audacity to call _me_ a _coward_?" Draco seethed, not caring that this was his godfather to whom he was speaking to so disrespectfully, "You have got it backwards. _I _am not the coward. _You_ are the coward –"

"Do not ever call me coward," Snape yelled his voice completely drowning out Draco's angry voice, "Sit down boy. Sit down!" He roughly shoved Draco down on the sofa before seating himself on the chair. His black eyes flashed angrily, the light from the fireplace glinting ominously on the orbs of crushed onyx, intertwining with jagged and dangerous silver.

He had gotten his answer – he could see it in his godson' defiant and gleaming eyes, in the way he clenched his fists, in his posture. Draco Malfoy, his godson had somehow fallen in love with Miss Granger. There was no act, no pretense here, Draco had just bared his heart for him to see and nothing but true emotion could produce the look Draco was giving him now -- smoldering, angry gray eyes stared into cold black orbs. But what stood out to him the most was the fact that Draco could not and did not know that he in fact was a spy – for all he knew, there was a chance he would have told Voldemort of his love for a Muggleborn and wavering loyalties. But he had risked it, risked it all for her, and his bravery and risk spoke volumes.

"Tell me something Draco; prove to me you're not a coward. Will you be able to forgive yourself if you see her lying there motionless and lifeless in the morgue? Will you be able to live with yourself, with the guilt knowing that you could have prevented her death? Will you be strong enough to bear the knowledge that you lost the _one_ thing you have loved more than anything else? Can you live the rest of your _life _knowing all those truths? _Are you strong enough_?"

Draco sat on the sofa, motionless and stunned at the passion and anger in the words that had just left his godfather's mouth. He stared at him in bewilderment, as though he were seeing this man for the first time, in a new light. He swallowed hard, knowing the answer to those questions but unable to say it.

"No," said Snape, the corners of his lips turning upward in a twisted smile, "No Draco. You're not strong enough."

Draco closed his eyes as the full impact of his godfather's words hit him, crashing on him like a wall of solid bricks falling to the ground in a heap, denting the cement irreparably. Only Snape could find words, which had the ability and strength to pierce him so deeply, but how could he have described the outcome in such vivid detail, the emotion so raw and heartfelt? And then it hit him. The implications of his hunch splintered in his mind, and slammed into his gut so strongly, he felt as though he had lost all his energy.

"You chose Voldemort over a girl you fancied didn't you?" Draco asked in what could be described as a mixture of awe and wonder.

Draco started as a look of pain flashed through Snape's eyes though it vanished in the blink of an eye. In that moment, Draco knew, he was certain that his godfather had gone through the same thing that he was enduring right now. And that realization lit a fire in his stomach, sending a feeling of warmth and compassion to the man sitting rigidly in front of him.

"It's late. You found your answer," Snape said dismissively, standing up sharply and turning his back to Draco before walking over to the fireplace.

He knew that tone of voice – sharp like the edge of a knife yet blunt with force. Draco knew he had hit a nerve when he had brought up this girl, whomever she may be, forcing Snape to feel emotions Draco knew he had suppressed and forced into a small corner of his heart. His question had opened the lock on that chest and he felt a small pang of regret at the storm of emotions he knew his godfather must be experiencing. But if anything, seeing Snape's reaction, made him realize just what _he_ would turn into if he followed in his footsteps – broken, miserable, but even worse regretful. Regret was a parasite, a leech that thrives on pain and misery, lying in wait like a cunning animal for any sign of self-hatred.

He stood up slowly and walked towards the door, slowly unfastening the silk fabric from the hanger and draping it elegantly over his shoulders.

"What happened to her?" he asked softly before he could help himself, the curiosity getting the better of him.

"She's dead." Snape's voice was short and tight. Draco looked sharply up at him in horror. His godfather was still facing the fire, his back towards him.

"I'm sorry." He didn't know what more he could say. What could he say? He had barely recovered from the fact that this strict and harsh man had _loved_ a woman and now he just realized he had gone through what he himself was enduring now. His regret turned to pity as it finally began to sink in how much it must have hurt him to lose the woman he had loved.

"Good night Draco."

"Good night," he said, recognizing from his curt and firm voice that he needed to leave. Turning around and opening the door, he paused for a brief second in the doorway, before pausing one last time. "Thank you."

Draco tore through the halls, his cloak billowing behind him. The walls rushed passed him as he swept past, his feet carrying him effortlessly and swiftly to the place where he would forge his new destiny. He finally knew what he wanted to do; he finally knew what his decision would be.

He came to an abrupt stop, nearly falling forward from the sudden stop, the momentum nearly making him fall over heels. He looked at the steel gargoyle – the only barrier that stood between him and freedom. He knew behind this ugly object was a spiraling staircase, the last obstacle to a new life. It was past one in the morning, but he was wide-awake from his talk with Snape. Adrenaline and energy were coursing through his veins like water swiftly and effortlessly moving down a river, overcoming any thorn in its journey. He could wait all night if he had to - nothing could stop him from what he was about to do. Nothing.

But what would Dumbledore put as his password? Scratching his head nervously, he wracked his brain, trying to think of anything Dumbledore had said which would shed some light on what the password could be.

"Err…Unity?" he said unconvincingly, remembering the theory the Headmaster had stressed in the welcoming speech. No movement from the gargoyle. Bullocks.

He wouldn't get anywhere randomly guessing. He might as well try and break down the gargoyle physically – he had a better chance of that than idly guessing. Propping a foot down on the knee of the statue, he pursed his lips….unity…people forgetting prejudices…becoming one with another…a new state is born from the ashes….

Ashes. Born again.

Suddenly it clicked. It couldn't be anything else. And somehow it ironically fit exactly why he was making this late night visit to the Headmaster.

"Phoenix." The animal, the bird symbolizing the death of an old regime, animal, person, thought process, to yield a new species, one of no knowledge and scars from the previous existence. It was undeniable that he would bear the deep cuts from his previous lifestyle, but like the phoenix, he would be bursting into a ball of flames, and allowing a new person to come forth. And like the newborn phoenix, there was no way he could go back to his previous life if he took that risk.

At that thought, determination and a sense of belonging and purpose ran through his veins, spreading like poison through every vessel and cell, until it hit his heart, filling him with hope and love. Bodly, he stepped on the first step, staring resolutely in front of him as the stairway began spinning, and before he knew it, his silver eyes were staring at Dumbledore door.

Cautiously, he pushed open the door, and hesitantly stepped in, fully prepared to wait here until the wee hours of the moment when the Headmaster would be present.

The portraits were asleep. Not even his cat-like steps woke them up – Draco found their inhales and exhales strangely relaxing and peaceful. As he had expected, Dumbledore was not there, though his leather armchair stood behind the desk, proudly in the moonlight that was shining in the surprisingly clear and jet-black sky and into the room. And the phoenix was sitting silent on its perch, the vibrant and bold crimson and yellow color a direct contrast to the silvers, blacks, and browns of the tables, picture frames, and chairs. Still unable to sleep, Draco looked around, marveling at the bookshelves with lines the walls, each shelf lines with books of different thicknesses and colors, of genres and authors. Overwhelmed by the sheer power and character this room exuded, he merely plucked a book about the origin of Latin names for various stars in the universe – this would be useful for Astronomy.

Interesting.

He had just become engrossed in the etymology of the star of interest that he failed to notice someone glide into the room, until the shadow fell across the desk, obscuring the moonlight falling onto his book.

"Professor Dumbledore," Draco said slightly startled, closing his book and rising from his chair, "I didn't expect your arrival until this morning. Please forgive my intrusion."

"No need to apologize my boy. Please, sit down." Sitting down into his own armchair, he fixed Draco with his twinkling yet piercing stare. "I was expecting you."

Draco raised an eyebrow at those words. "Expecting me?"

"That is right my boy. Unless I'm wrong I know why you're here," Dumbledore continued, the twinkle now gone from his voice.

"I fail to see how news of my visit reached you," he said, his mind straying to rather disturbing ideas as to how Dumbledore could have known.

"Professor Snape alerted me by Floo that you would visit."

"Professor Snape? I, in no way, led him to believe I would be paying you a visit this morning."

"I know," he said simply, his eyes smiling over the half-moon glasses. "I know what I am about to ask of you will be difficult, but I must hear it from your own words."

"Professor Snape informed you of the activities that had taken place only an hour ago?" Why would his godfather – a supposed Death Eater – tell Dumbledore of his impending actions? If there was anyone he should tell, it would be his father and Voldemort. That would mean…..

"Professor Snape is a spy for the Order." He couldn't believe he hadn't seen it earlier. Everything his godfather had put him through fell into place – why Snape had said those brutal words – he was trying to goad him. Like a good spy, he was making sure Draco was in fact serious about becoming a spy for the Order, before divulging or in this case, hinting that he in fact was not a Death Eater, but a member of the Order.

"Yes. Now if you please, tell me what happened, my boy."

"I would like to follow in my godfather's steps and become a spy for the Order." Dumbledore could hear the conviction and determination in the Slytherin's voice. He had been aware for weeks now, of the internal struggle the boy was facing, of the love he and the Gryffindor girl shared, but had chosen to involve himself, choosing instead for the two of them to make their own decisions. And as he heard the decision the younger Malfoy had made and saw his resolve, he found himself oddly close to tears coupled with a surge of hope. And he knew, understood just how powerful his best spy's story and own blackened and wretched destiny had been due to his neglect of his own love on the young Slytherin.

"You do understand what you are getting yourself into?"

"Yes, I do," Draco said with the same steely resolve. "I promise to serve the Order to the best of my ability. It is my final decision."

"Very well, then, my boy, that is enough for tonight. Get some rest."

"That's it?" Draco said, completely unnerved and surprised by the ease in which the Headmaster had accepted his words. "You believe my words so easily."

"I know who and who can not be trusted," his Headmaster said, smiling once over his glasses.

"That's not good enough," Draco said loudly, "If it isn't too much trouble, I would like for you to give me to Veritaserum, so that my statements can be verified."

"My boy, there is no need –"

"With all due respect Headmaster, there is," interrupted Draco. "You trust me, Professor Snape trusts my intentions, but the rest of the Order will question your judgment and my loyalty. I cannot be forced to repeatedly prove my loyalty to the Order. By giving me Veritaserum, there will be tangible proof and the Order's insecurities will be put at rest."

"I do like the idea of forcing you to prove your allegiance to the Order," Dumbledore said, a little sternly.

"I understand that Professor, and I respect your wishes," Draco said, feeling that he was close to convincing the Headmaster to give him the Truth potion, "But it will be for the best for me, you, and the Order. It is not an insult to me – in all honestly, their reaction will be warranted, judging from my family's history. They are also entitled to know that the loyalty and intentions of a new member are established. Please, sir," he pushed, as he saw his Professor start to waver just slightly. "Please allow this exception."

"Alright my boy, alright," Dumbledore said, quietly impressed with the courage the Slytherin was displaying, " I will send for Professor Snape– he will arrange for you to have a meeting with us later today."

"Thank you Professor." Draco stood up, feeling as though the weight of the worlds had just been lifted from his shoulders. He hadn't realized until now just how much stress this had been causing. He nearly collapsed from the sheer relief of ridding it. "Until tomorrow."

With that, he turned around and exited the room, leaving behind a touched and hopeful man.

* * *

_PLEASE REVIEW_

_Until Next Time,_

_AM_

_Review Responses:_

_**Fleur137: **__Aw hey love, finally someone understands. Yeah I couldn't believe it either – he should have won. Ah Marat Safin, love him – though he beat Federer in the 2005 Aussie Open semis, haha. Nah, I'mma miss him since he's retiring this year – what a pity and he's so entertaining and such a sweetheart, not to mention downright sexy. And Myskina! What's happened to her? Won her French Open title and now I don't even see her anymore! I'm glad you like this story – part of Draco's little heartbreaking was due to my sadness when he lost, haha. But I'm over it now – the boy has 15 and he isn't stopping, and hey, 2009 season belonged to Federer just like 2004, 2005, 2006, and 2007 did, especially 2005 and 2006. _

_**Aastha Panit:**__ Hey, yesh Federer was a little disappointing in the final – he's usually so amazing when he needs to close out points, that's when his best comes. He should have won the second set, he was up 5-4, 30-0 and his serve just let him down. Happened in the Australian Open against Nadal too, after he was up a break in the first set, but Nadal is brilliant, and he deserves all the wins that he gets. But yeah, I mean Federer had a fantastic year, it always seems as though every season he has, there is something that just stands out, and 2009 is definitely going to go down as one of the best ever. He has his five titles, and I bet he'll win Basel and probably another one or two, so he'll end with a good six or seven titles this year. And like you said, I bet once he adjusts with his twins more, he'll definitely win another couple majors, if not at least one per year, and like he said, one slam a year is a good year! _

_**Freewords:**__ like I told you earlier, I know man, both defending champions out. It's pretty funny though, none of the defending champions this year defended their titles. Sharapova and Djokovic ousted in Australia, Nadal and Ivanovic thrown out in the French, then Nadal and Venus out in Wimbledon, and then Federer and Serena defeated, but at least they lost in the super late stages of the grand slams. Much better than the first or second round, haha. It's a pity loving the best, he's never going to be able to replicate his 92-5 and 10-title seasons, and it just makes it harder to watch him lose. Though, it just made his victory at the French Open this year, just so much sweeter and I wouldn't trade that for anything. Yeah, I'm too obsessed and insanely into this. _

_**Gossipgirlandthsotphan**__: Okay, we're going to have problems since you're a del potro fan – nah, I kid. Potro got CRUSHED by Federer at the quarters in Australia and then the narrowly lost in the semis at the French, so I guess he needed one win against the maestro. Though I'm still sore enough that I haven't watched the presentation ceremony yet though I am a little tempted. (ok I gave in and just saw it, wasn't that bad, haha) Guess Federer couldn't beat Potro at three majors this year like he beat Soderling in three. He played well, and he deserved it, I just think Federer served so horribly, and let it get away from him. But all credit to del Potro, he's a great guy on top of how good a player he is, so you can't even hate him. Nadal is amazing - to me, he's the only threat who can possibly overtake Federer's 15 Grand Slam titles, but he's at 6 now, so he'd have to amp it up in the next several years to overtake it. But man, with Murray and Djokovic and now del Potro coming up, and hell Federer still looks damn good and will probably will win a couple more, it feels like it's going to be hard to get to 15. But it's exciting for men's tennis. Still can't believe Del Potro is only the second guy to break the monopoly of those two since the 2005 French Open! Poor Nadal though, gotta feel for him, that he couldn't defend his Wimbledon crown, though Federer reaching 15 made my day. _


	13. Verus Diligo

Title: Virtus et Iudicium

Author: Anjali Malfoy

Rating: T

Disclaimer: I do not in any way, shape, or form, own Harry Potter or its characters.

_A/N: Wow, I am so sorry this took so long to update – my quarter just swamped me with inorganic chemistry, biochemistry, physical chemistry, and then I was TA'ing organic chemistry! Had about 10 tests in 11 weeks and then grading for organic chemistry so you can imagine how just stressful that was!_

_This is the last chapter – I want to give a huge thanks to those who still stuck with this even though I unfortunately updated a couple months since the last chapter. I hope this chapter lives up to your expectations and that it was worth the long wait!_

**Chapter XIII: Verus Diligo**

_"Love teneo haud terminus ut suus patientia , haud terminus ut suus fides , haud pallor of suus spes ; is can barbaricus quisquam. Diligo etiam sto ut totus alius has fallen." -- "Love knows no limit to its endurance, no end to its trust, no fading of its hope; it can outlast anything. Love still stands when all else has fallen."_

Hermione lay nestled in her bed, the satin sheets bunched around her curled body. Her chest fell and rose slightly with each shallow breath, the movement causing her sprawled curls to move like waves across the pillow. A sudden noise broke her sleep. Peering in the dark room, she saw a white owl tapping insistently at her window. Her initial annoyance at the disturbance to what had been her first good night of sleep in a very long time changed to apprehension and fear when she saw the signature crest emblazoned on the cover of the parchment.

Hermione ripped open the letter, not caring that she had torn part of the parchment in her haste. Her heart beating fast, she unfolded the letter, before closing her eyes and pressing it close to her heart. She felt nauseous; her stomach was churning as though she were just entering a N.E.W.T exam, knowing that the impact this one letter could have on her life. Her heart was racing, as though she had ingested an unhealthy amount of caffeine, making her head faint and her mind dizzy. Breathing deeply, she stared at the letter in front of her, as the sea of black ink slowly began to form coherent words and sentences.

_"I spoke to Dumbledore. While part of me is aching to tell you the details of our arrangement, I prefer to err on the side of caution and will be more specific when we meet in case this gets intercepted."_

Hermione laughed thickly, her laughter blending in with her tears. Trust Draco to always mix in his sarcastic humor with seriousness. He had spoken to Dumbledore…..he wouldn't have unless he was considering becoming a spy or an Auror for the Order….right? She hungrily read more, already feeling a feeling of euphoria rising in her stomach.

_"Just know, that I have chosen __you__, your morals, and your path. Regardless of what decision you make, just remember…. I'll always love you."_

_D._

Unable to control herself any longer, Hermione broke down, as she clutched his letter to her chest. He had chosen her. He had chosen the Order. She felt as though her smile would break her face, finally, finally at long last she could see some light at the end of the very long tunnel.

Still smiling she lay down on her bed, holding his letter to her heart, the parchment now wet with her tears. She would never let go of this letter; she would never throw it away.

Draco had fulfilled his end of the bargain. She knew she was needed to do. She was scared, worried of the possible ramifications of her actions, but all it took was a reminder of what Draco had sacrificed in the decision he had made to embolden her. If he became a spy, he would have contact with his family, though she knew Draco would be guilt-ridden the whole time, the feeling intensifying with each passing second. He knew his hands could possibly be tainted with the blood of his own parents. Regardless of the way they had raised him, they were his parents, and the feelings of disgust, betrayal, and guilt would scar him for the rest of his life.

It was time for her to do her part now.

. & .

Hermione wiped her hands nervously on the back of her robes as she paced nervously in front of the balcony of the Astronomy Tower. There had to be a dark mark on her robe, she felt as though she was practically swimming in a sea of regret and guilt. Her body and face felt hot, even as the chilly and harsh wind whipped and cut her clothes, face, and hair like a newly sharpened sword.

Two weeks. It had been two weeks since she had left Ron but he was still volatile – even the smallest thing could set him off. He was like a ticking time bomb, waiting for the slightest spark to detonate, resulting in havoc and chaos that couldn't be undone. Any wrong word, no any slight ambiguity in her words could be that spark -- she'd have to be firm and tight, yet considerate and tactful. But how could she possibly achieve that, was it even humanly possible, knowing just how firmly Ron stood on the issue of her dating Malfoy?

_"She'll have to make a decision, and if she chooses that ruddy bastard, I want nothing to do with her. Tell her that."_

His words still stung - the cut jagged like a thorn, the wound deep enough to draw blood, painful enough to cause a sliver of sorrow and a delicate flash of humiliation and longing at her every thought and action. Though they were said in a drunken stupor, those words held some truth.

But she couldn't give up hope. Not entirely. Not yet. Even now, something within her was compelling her to appeal to the romantic, humane side of Ron. Could it compensate for his stubborn, hotheaded side? No, she knew the chances were slim, yet she was here anyways.

She couldn't help but pray that those words were just said in anger, in the heat of the moment. After all, he had said those words just hours after she had left him. So there was a possibility that in these two weeks, he realized he didn't mean those. But she knew; she had always known just how deep the hatred between the Malfoy and Weasley families lay.

Maybe it would be enough just to say she was interested in someone else? Knowing her interests had changed wind so quickly would wreak a wave of pain and anger but knowing the offending person was Malfoy would bring yet another onslaught of hate and anger. In truth, after knowing that Draco had become one of the Order, he was now in graver danger than he had been in his whole life. He was following Snape's footsteps by becoming a spy for the Order, and each second he spent in the Slytherin dorms in the presence of his peers was a dangerous second for at any moment, his true loyalties could be exposed and his life in danger. But it was far too risky to move him to another part of the castle for his presence in the Slytherin common room would be suspicious and highly irregular.

So Hermione knew, it would not bode well for any soul barring that of Harry to know of the potential relationship between the two – though Ron meant well, he had a penchant for losing his temper and blurting out information that was better left unsaid. Revealing any liaison between the two would not only jeopardize Malfoy's role as a spy but more importantly, his life.

Their relationship would only come to life after the War was over, or until there was no lingering doubt that Ron would sabotage - albeit on accident - their relationship. But she remembered what Harry said – she had a game plan but these conversations were not ones that had a template, you had to go with the flow and hold your ground. Love - like war - was a balance between improvisation and preparation.

Hermione started as a noise behind her jerked her roughly out of her thoughts. Ron was climbing through the door, awkwardly, his hands fingering the edges of his cloak.

"Erm, hi," he stuttered, still standing next to the door. "Sorry I'm erm a little late…I was in detention…Snape made me stay a little after…you know how he is," he said in the same uneasy voice, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

"Oh that's alright," Hermione said quickly, waving her hand emphatically. She was practically suffocating from the sheer awkwardness that lay between them. Ron nodded, his eyes staring out into the night sky. Hermione bit her lip, rocking back and forth, her mind racking for something to break the tense silence.

"So, why did you owl me to meet you here?" Ron asked finally, moving a few steps forward, burying his hands in his pockets.

"I just needed to talk about something. I've been thinking over the past two weeks, about us, about everything that happened between us, and I figured it was time to set things straight."

Hermione snuck a peek at Ron's visage, hoping his expression might hint at the impact her words might have had on him – she was startled to see a small grin break across his face and his eyes soften. But it also emboldened her, sending her a small sliver of hope at the possible amicable resolution of this situation.

"Why do you look so –" Any question she lay unspoken as her voice faltered and recoiled back into her throat like a snake curling back after striking, when he took a couple more steps closer to her.

"I knew we would come to this," he interrupted, reaching out and grasping her hand from where it lay at her side, gently caressing her hand with his. "I knew you would come around and we would be alright. Just say the word Hermione, just say the word."

Hermione gaped at him confused at his sudden romantic and gentle gesture, then gasped internally as realization thudded painfully in the bottom of her gut. With a sudden, swift move, she took her hand back, leaving Ron's grasping for the wind, and took several steps back.

"I'm sorry," she choked out. Helplessness filled her gut as she realized just how optimistic her letter and her words must have made him. Ron looked down at her, confusion written all over his brown eyes. "I'm sorry Ron. I shouldn't have written and said what I did."

Turning her back to him, she buried her head in her hands. "Dammit, what I was I thinking," she berated herself,

"Hermione," said Ron, his strong arms yanking her from the balcony and holding her at arm's length. "What is going on? Why did you call me here if not to get back together with me?"

"Ron, I didn't want you to find out right now, so soon, but I thought it'd be…more appropriate if you found out from…me, instead of through other ways."

"Find what out," Ron asked exasperatedly, "Hermione, for Merlin's sake, will you stop beating around the bloody bush and say what's bothering you?"

Hermione opened her mouth but no words came out. "I've been," she started, licking her lips nervously, "I like someone." Yes, her confession wasn't entirely true, she had every intention of dating Draco but she wouldn't in any way mention or insinuate a possible liaison, due to the potential danger Draco could become embroiled in.

"Liking someone?" Ron abruptly let go of her shoulders as though they were made of burning coals, his arms dropping limply to his side, "Liking someoneromantically? " "No, I called you to the most secluded place in the castle to tell you I have a new friend." She bit back the sarcastic retort as she senses Ron's anger building up, emanating like waves from him, growing stronger with each passing second and automatically knew she was right in withholding Draco's name.

"I didn't try to," she said hastily placing her hand on his arm, "I didn't mean to, it just happened, Ron listen to me, ok, just hear me out ---"

"I don't want to hear anything you have to say!," he yelled, turning back at her, before whirling around and pointing a shaking finger in her face, "I can't see anything except that you left me just two weeks ago and you are interested in someone else. Two weeks Hermione. Do I mean that little to you? Was what we had that pathetic that you moved on so quickly? I know you Hermione, you wouldn't become involved with someone in two weeks. That's not like you, you always need more time….unless….."

Ron stopped, his eyes widening even larger, as he staggered back, his body hunched over as though a boulder had just been slammed into his abdomen."You started liking him while we were together." Hermione felt as though someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over her head at his words. She hadn't planned on this. "So that's why you'd began doubting what we had." Ron started pacing back and forth rubbing his hands together, "I can't believe how I didn't see until now…how could you Hermione? How could you lead me on like that? Was everything we had just as fake?" he snarled, stopping in his tracks and facing her.

"I told you, if I had a choice ---"

"Enough with the wordplay Hermione," snapped Ron, his bitter laughter echoing throughout the balcony, "I may be thick but I'm not stupid. Just give me the bloody answers; I'm not in the mood for your articulate crap. You began liking him while we were together didn't you?"

"I ---"

"Just give me a "_yes_" or a "_no_"", Ron roared, ripping his cloak off and throwing it behind him, "I'm not asking you for a 700 word essay answer. I just need a bloody "_yes_" or "_no_.""

"Yes, I did," Hermione said sharply, "And it was towards the end, not in the middle of our relationship."

Ron rolled his eyes as if to say that it didn't make a difference.

"Who is this bloke," he asked gruffly, blinking back the few tears that were blurring his vision. Sadness and rage were coursing through his body, but as usual, his anger was overpowering any sliver of humiliation, sadness, and helplessness that was poisoning his body. He could feel himself coming perilously close to throttling her, or himself, or someone just to relieve the feeling inside his body. It was through his insides were being ripped apart. He wanted to yell, to break something, rip something to shreds, shatter a perfect sheet of glass, ruin something that had at one point been perfect, just like his and Hermione's relationship, but at this point nothing could appease the storm that was inside him.

"That's not important right now Ron," Hermione said desperately, feeling as though she was coming perilously close to the cliff, that if she fell over, she could, in no way, appease Ron. "Can we please just talk about my liking another guy."

"Who is it Hermione?" he yelled, turning around.

"I am not telling you until we finish talking about what we started – I am not bringing in someone else until _you_…_calm_…._down_," she said sternly.

"Calm down? I've just found my girlfriend was interested in someone else while we were together and _you_ want _me_ to calm down? It's someone I hate isn't it?" he spat bitterly, his voice lowering a few notches from his yelling as he yanking his collar, which had become twisted in the whipping wind. "Otherwise you'd have no problems throwing his name in my face."

"That's not true and you know that Ron," Hermione said evenly. "I just want to talk about this."

"Fine," he said simply. Hermione blinked at him in surprise as he sat down on the ledge across from her but her surprise was transient, the hope of a peaceful chat erased as he continued, "Let's talk. Oh but about what? How you broke my bloody heart? Or how about my insufferable personality? Oh and then there's my personal favorite: my replace ability," he spat disgustedly, " and insignificance. Go ahead, pick one." He stared at her evenly, his eyes chips of ice, hard and glassy, yet glistening with defiance and pain, tinted with compassion though in the blink of an eye it was wiped clean.

" Actually you know what," Ron said abruptly, before Hermione could talk, "I've changed my mind. I don't care; nothing you could say could make me feel otherwise. Just tell me who this person is."

"I cannot tell you that Ron," Hermione said thrown off momentarily by his brusque demeanor, "I will give you the answers to any question you ask of me but not to that question."

"Why not?" he snapped, "There are only two reasons you wouldn't tell me: 1. I hate the bastard and is a mortal enemy or 2. He's my friend and there's someone very unbecoming about dating a friend's former girlfriend."

"And what about the fact that you have a penchant for humiliating and taking every advantage of cursing them?" she replied hotly, "I am very well acquainted with the tricks you employ. Ginny's ex boyfriends have been on the receiving end of some very unpleasant "practical jokes.""

"There is a difference between you and Ginny," Ron snapped, "Ginny is my sister."

"Do you really expect me to believe that you would spare him?" Hermione asked incredulously, crossing her arms over her chest, trying to make it sound like this was the sole reason for her reluctance to tell him.

"Trust me Hermione," Ron said, rolling his eyes again, sending a wave of anger mixed with sadness through her, "I would have done that before we began dating, but you've made it very, very clear that you don't like me anymore, and it'd make me look stupid and petty to do that. Besides," he said standing up and staring her directly into her eyes, "I will find out eventually won't I? And wasn't it you who said you'd rather tell me? What, did the brilliant Hermione Granger make a mistake? Not possible." His eyes were now mocking her, as though goading her to give in.

"Fine, I made a mistake," she shouted, "But I have my reasons for not telling his name. You have a temper Ron, and I know what you turn into when you get angry albeit accidentally –"

"What I turn into?" Ron hissed, his eyes narrowing, "What do I turn into? Is it worse than a backstabbing girlfriend?"

Hermione ignored his jab – she was determined to focus on the matter at hand. "You know very well what you turn into Ron," she hissed back stepping backward as he slowly advanced on her, listening to her word closely, "You reveal stuff that's better left unsaid when you're angry. And I cannot have you reveal the name of this boy because you will put him in danger, Ron, and that is something I cannot live with."

"Danger hmm..." Ron said, his eyes glinting maliciously, "Danger. " Hermione froze as it hit her just what she had divulged. "Tell me something Hermione," Ron continued, as he circled her like she was his prey, "Why would he be in danger if I mentioned you liked him?"

Hermione didn't say anything even as she felt Ron's eyes boring a hole in the back of her head.

"Who is it Hermione," he snarled, "You may be brilliant but you just utterly screwed up. If I really want to know who this is, I will find out. "

Hermione knew Ron would find out if he wanted to. After being a part of this group for seven years, she knew he would eventually find out.

"Why do you care so much?" she asked harshly, raw pain dripping from her voice as she turned around, feeling tears prick her eyes as she tried to put up a last front, "Why does it matter so much to you?

"Why won't you just tell me?" he asked simply, "Why are you making it into such a big deal…when it really shouldn't be." Ron laughed harshly, "Come on, if it wasn't someone so bad, it wouldn't have been such a big deal. It shouldn't be….but you made it one."

"Fine," Hermione said, her voice cracking, "You want to know? It's…" her voice faltered yet again, a single tear sliding down her cheek, "it's…." "Any day now," Ron said sarcastically. "Dammit Ron, it's Malfoy," Hermione screamed as she felt her front give away. She turned away from him, as she fell against the balcony, her shoulder shaking with sobs. She'd done it. She'd caved. She'd done told about him, and in the process may have written Draco's death certificate. He might not be able to be a spy anymore for the Order and it was all due to her. And from her side, she felt Ron move back, as the impact of her words hit him.

He must be dreaming. The anger he felt at that name was indescribable. It was as though he had gone blind, he had ceased to exist, all he could see was white pain, white throbbing dull pain swimming like an endless mirror in front of his eyes. Malfoy? Malfoy?

"Malfoy," he said simply, incredulously, praying that he had somehow heard the name wrong. "Draco Malfoy?"

"No," he said, backing away laughing almost wildly, the ugly noise echoing into the empty night sky "no no no no, you…you cannot be serious. This has got to be some kind of joke, some kind of dare…" He trailed off as he caught of Hermione's tearful face. He saw the look in her eyes, the same look she had once given him….and then Harry's words that night…..sending another wave of fury over him…slowly drowning him, making it harder and harder for him to breathe, each gulp of oxygen feeling like it might be his last…..

_"She can't not date someone else ever again Ron. You can't realistically expect that – just like you'll date someone else later."_

_"I know. It just hurts, and I'll be fine. But that doesn't mean she can date just anyone and everyone."_

_"Like….Malfoy?"_

_"Malfoy. Malfoy is everything I've hated. No. If Hermione dated Malfoy, she would have to pick. Me or him. Simple as that. Malfoy cannot have the one person I have loved._

_"You don't mean that. You're angry right now, you don't know what you're saying."_

_He had known. Harry had known. His best friend had known. They had **all** known. Except him._

Bile rose into his throat as he covered his throat, the fingers squeezing hard. He felt like such a fool, the humiliation beginning to suffocate him. He had been played, he had been set up, like a puppet, dancing and moving to the tunes of everyone else. "Oh god no, no" he said his feet giving way as he fell to the stone deck, his hands covered his ears, as though he couldn't bear to hear what he had just heard and seen. "Oh God no....."Hermione bent down and grabbed his hands with her and she sobbed onto his hands, her forehead coming to rest against his.

"Don't," Ron yelled recoiling from her very touch while simultaneously scrambling to his feet and staggering away from her, his hands groping behind him searching for someone to regain his balance as his fingers caught the railing, "Don't, don't, just….don't even try."

"Please…Ron," Hermione pleaded, still kneeling on the stone floor, "let me explain…"

"Stop saying you can explain things," Ron yelled, causing Hermione to jerk back, "Stop saying that! You cannot explain everything…..do you get that? What will you explain to me? Will you explain to me how you like my worst enemy? Can you say anything to stop me from hating you as much as I do right now?

"Why him?" Sheer raw pain was etched in his voice and face. "Why him Hermione, why him? Out of everyone here…..why him?"

Hermione gaped wordlessly at him at his question, finding that she couldn't answer. "I don't know Ron," she choked out, "He's stubborn, he's feisty, he's nonsensical, he angers me…he's possessive and irritating and there are time when all I want to do is wrap my fingers around his neck and strangle him." She paused for a brief moment, breathless, gasping for air, "But there's something about him, something there that just has me completely entranced, obsessed, addicted….."

Ron didn't say anything. He just stood there, motionless, the final blow coming when he saw the spark of happiness that exploded in her eyes like fireworks as her description of Malfoy. It was pure happiness, shining brightly like a lone candle in a dark room, before it was extinguished in the blink of an eye as she looked at him again. That look….a look she had never ever given him, not once in their relationship….

"I'm sorry Ron," Hermione sobbed as she finally hauled herself up from the floor, using the railing as a prop, coming up to lean heavily against it, "I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry too," he said, the remaining tears streaming down his face, "I am sorry Hermione because I thought I loved you unconditionally. As a friend, as a boyfriend….but I guess I didn't." A stab of pain flitted through his heart, getting lost in all the hatred he felt for her and for himself for hating her. "Because I can't find it in me to accept you as you are right now. I can't."

"Don't say that Ron," Hermione choked out, as it become exponentially harder to breathe, as his words slammed into her stomach, "Please don't say that Ron."

"What do you want me to say? Do you want me to say that I'm happy that the woman I love is with another man? Oh, and that the other man is my worst enemy. What do you want me to say Hermione? Do you want me to lie and say that I don't hate you right now?" he asked, his voice suddenly lowering and his eyes becoming cold like frosted shards of glass, "Do you want me to say that everything's going to be alright, that we'll go back to being how we were?"

She stayed silent as the full impact of his words hit her. And then she suddenly realized, that was exactly what she had been counting on. She had been counting on him to be unaffected by everything she had told him. She would come out of this scathed but not to the extent that he had.

"I can't do this Hermione. I can't go on, knowing that every time I look at you, you're now his. Don't talk to me Hermione. Don't owl me, don't write me. Pretend I don't exist….I don't know how long it'll take me to get over this, maybe it'll be a week, month, a year….or forever," he gulped, pushing back a wave of tears. "But I'm no longer a part of your life Hermione."

"Don't do this Ron," Hermione pleaded, "Don't do this….do anything, anything but this." She couldn't stop him; she had no place to stop him, no right to stop him, because she knew she was solely responsible for this. Yes, she could not have helped falling in love with Draco but she knew it was no basis for her to feel angry at the way Ron was acting.

"I can't." He swallowed hard before turning around and grabbing his cloak before walking shakily to the door.

"Ron –" Hermione choked out, sobs clogging her throat.

He paused at the door, his hand resting on the doorknob. He turned his head to the side; Hermione could see the trails of tears on his profile, praying that the brief pause meant that he would change his mind. But his next two words sent a dagger through her heart, her spirit shattered into a thousand pieces; she felt as though she had been robbed of her breath, the brusque tone of his voice indicating a finality and end to everything she had known.

"Goodbye Hermione."

With those words he was gone, almost as though he had simply gone through the door itself, quietly and smoothly like a ghost before she could say anything, it was as though he had never been there, like this moment had never existed…. like they had never existed.

Hermione still stood at the edge of the balcony, her feet rooted to the spot as though she had been cursed. The only sign of movement were the streams of tears that were still cascading down her cheeks. How could she have lost control so quickly? Of herself, of Ron, of the situation? How could things have gone from perfection to a mess that was now shattered beyond repair in just two weeks?

Just beneath her, at the bottom of the stairs, the Gryffindor occupying her mind staggered and helplessly fell against the banister as his façade finally crumbled. His shoulders shook as he buried his head in his hands, as the pain of losing her friendship, painfully and tantalizingly spreading throughout his blood like poison, the feeling of anger completely gone.

_"I've lost. Is it possible to love someone so much but get nothing but hurt and pain how can I stand that she loves not me but someone else and I kept deceiving myself. I've won but lost everything. And he lost but he has won everything."_

. & .

"Hi." Hermione looked up from the fire to see Harry leaning against the wall.

"Hey." Harry's stomach fell at her dull and short tone – he'd been silently watching her curled form from the corner for a few minutes. Her face was crunched up, lines creasing her smooth forehead – she was internally struggling with something and he had a very good idea about what that was after the "talk" he had had with Ron after their Quidditch meeting.

"That looks good," Harry commented on the mug of untouched hot chocolate that sat in front of Hermione on the wood table.

"Help yourself, I'm not hungry," Hermione said in the same dull tone, carefully pushing the mug toward him.

"Ron's upset with me," Harry said, sighing heavily and taking a seat next to her. Part of him didn't want to tell her – she didn't need another problem on her already full-plate, but she did need to know what was happening. And it was better for her to find out through him, not through the gossip queens around the castle.

Hermione also sighed. "I'm sorry Harry," she said, closing her eyes wearily. "I didn't tell him anything – he figured out that you had known all along. I didn't do as smooth a job as I wanted in telling him."

Harry wiped a smudge of chocolate from his upper lip. "I know, he told me everything,…"told" might be too mild a term for what happened."

"I royally messed up." Hermione looked at Harry for the first time that evening. "I mean, where do I even start the list of mistakes? Draco? Ruining mine and Ron's relationship? And if that wasn't bad enough," Hermione paused, choking back a sob, "I had to ruin your and Ron's friendship too."

"Hey, me and Ron will be just fine," he said strongly, almost as if he were trying to convince himself more than her. Hermione winced slightly as Harry placed a comforting hand on her shoulder – his behavior was only making her feel guiltier. "He's angry with me for knowing and not telling him, but he will come to understand." Even as he spoke them, the words felt hollow but as Hermione's shoulders relaxed, he knew the lies were worth it for now.

"You sound too sure for that," she said flatly. "It was my mistake for involving you in the first place – I made you choose between me and Ron. It would have been very different if I told you a secret that didn't involve Ron."

"It would have been unethical for me to tell him. And you needed me Hermione, you" Harry faltered, "You, you don't understand Hermione. I've watched you for seven years, you're a sister to me. You had never looked as broken as you did that week. Never. What was I supposed to do? Let youdrown?"

Hermione stared silently at Harry, silently stunned by the intensity in his green eyes. "I know. I know," she said softly, feeling an unexpected wave of calm overtake her, "But you were put in a really difficult position. But Harry," she said suddenly causing Harry to look at her, "did you not tell Ron just because I made you promise me to? Did you want to tell Ron?"

"I won't lie – I was unhappy that you made me keep the truth from Ron, but," Harry paused, rubbing a hand over his face, "it wasn't my story to tell. Yeah, I knew how hurt he was going to be," admitted Harry looking sheepishly at his hands, "but you had told me everything in confidence. I was either going to save him from the betrayal that I'm sure he's feeling right now or I was going to lose your trust. But no, I wouldn't have told him either way…..because I don't think it was my place."

" It's a very gray issue isn't it," Hermione said softly. Harry nodded silently. "Yes, it was." He averted his gaze from Hermione, feeling the same sensation of anger and bitterness rise up at the situation, at his involvement, and to his anger and dismay, at Malfoy though he knew deep down he was tilting on the brink of insanity just as he was.

"I thought you weren't going to tell him about Malfoy." Hermione winced at the slightly accusatory tone in Harry's voice. Harry felt a sharp stab of guilt at his inability to keep his unhappiness hidden for the first time all evening. He was angry, sad, and upset but for the sake of his best friend, he needed to be strong because the addition of his problems would shatter the already delicate and teetering balance between sanity and insanity.

The sadness and anger he felt at his damaged friendship with Ron was unbearable; it was like a pulsating fire, gaining strength with every passing second, each gulp of oxygen. He remembered the row he and Ron had managed to fight through during the Triwizard tournament – that fight was the first trial through fire for their friendship and that disagreement did not hold a candle to the fight they were currently embroiled in.

He'd never seen Ron look so angry as he did in that moment but he knew Ron well enough to see the raw pain and humiliation fueling the fire that was burning in his eyes – not anger. His reasoning and words might as well as been said to a deaf person, Ron had refused to hear anything he'd had to say. And Harry had a feeling that time wouldn't come anytime soon.

"I hadn't planned on it – in the heat of the moment…." Hermione was saying. She trailed off, pausing for a moment to gather her thoughts, "I let it slip that he would be in danger if Ron knew, and that led him to believe it was an enemy. He would have figured out either way Harry…" He didn't respond, just sat there staring into the fire.

"…Do you think I made a mistake in picking Draco over Ron?" she asked hesitantly, breaking the silence that had fallen between them.

Harry looked sharply at her when he heard her voice audibly tremble. His eyes bore into hers, and he then knew, that even now she wasn't entirely sure of her decision. Part of her still thought her decision was a mistake, a mistake that tormented each and every waking and sleeping moment. It loomed like an endless shadow, threatening to tip the already teetering scales of sanity causing everything came crashing down, shattering in a way that was so painfully irreparable.

"Do you love him?"

Whatever she had been expecting, that was mostly certainly not it. Harry felt her slightly recoil back at his question as though he had physically pushed her and her muscles tense and tighten up. His eyes met her widened ones, and he could see the confusion lying within.

"Take your time," he murmured comfortingly, patting her knee before staring into the fire. "Don't force it. It's a serious question."

Did she love Draco? How was she supposed to know if she ….loved Draco?

And then Ginny's words echoed in her head. _"You just know, in the bottom of your stomach, after all the other relationships where something just felt wrong, that this feels right."_

She had been thrown off last night when Draco had said he loved her but that confusion had been drowned amidst the flood of happiness and relief at his decision. But love was such a strong word…. how could he possibly love her after just months?

And then it hit her – love didn't equate to longevity. Just like Ginny had said.

She thought of how his eyes lit up when he saw her….she remembered the way her own body responded when she saw him. She thought of the unadulterated fear on his face the night he told her, he couldn't live with himself if she died…..just like she wouldn't be able to if he died. She thought of the sacrifices he had just made for her…..the same way she was making sacrifices for him.

"I'll just ask you another question," Harry said suddenly, his gaze still firmly planted in the flames, "It might help – would you have made the sacrifices you're making for everyone?"

_Would she have made these sacrifices for everyone? No…she would have only made those sacrifices for someone she truly cared and loved….Would she have made those sacrifices if she didn't love Draco?_

Harry would never know what impact that question had on her. For the first time in her life, she was rendered speechless. This whole month she had been acting without analyzing just what she was doing and just what it meant. She'd broken up with Ron, and now her friendship with him was virtually done. She was risking the alienation of her Gryffindor House if they came to know about Draco. Her reputation and life were on the line. And yet, she had done it all, in the name of Draco Malfoy.

And then she suddenly knew. She couldn't have done this for anyone but her closest friends and Draco hadn't been a very close friend for nearly as long before everything…..

I love Draco. I love Draco.

"Yes Harry," she said softly, the realization spreading over he body like a warm blanket, "Yes, I do. I love him." And unlike with Ron or any previous boyfriends, this felt right. It felt just right.

Her stomach dropped several notches when Harry didn't respond and just kept staring into the fire. She'd expected a slightly more animated response. "You don't look so happy about it," she said hesitantly and rather disappointed at his lack of enthusiasm.

"Oh," Harry started immediately, his voice lined with regret, "It's that I'm not happy." He paused, sighing, rubbing a hand over his face. "I don't like Malfoy, I don't fully trust him yet, it'll take a long time before I reach that stage." He paused, noticing Hermione's head drop just a little. "But," he said pausing as if to add emphasis, causing Hermione to look at him curiously, "you didn't make the wrong decision. He makes you happy and you deserve to find happiness in someone just like I have found it in Ginny. True love is very hard to find…and if you find it, you latch onto it, and you never let it go. Not for anything."

"Thanks Harry," she said quietly, a small smile, "I needed that."

"Sure," he said just as softly a smile also crossing his face.

"I think I'm going to get some rest now," Hermione said, suddenly feeling a strong urge to be alone with her thoughts and feelings.

"Alright. I'll be in my room if you need me." Harry said softly, not wishing to press the issue when it was so obvious she wanted her space at this moment.

. & .

Hermione stood on the Astronomy Tower for what felt like the thousandth time in the last week. The last couple days had passed slowly yet far too quickly for Hermione. It seemed as though Friday was so far yet so close. Part of her yearned to see Draco, hold and touch him while part of her was filled with trepidation and anxiety. She kept replaying the scene in the hallway where she had given him and hugged him endlessly. And each time she remembered it, a jolt of excitement and adrenaline shot through her veins like a shot of espresso.

She wasn't sure what to say to him – would they discuss everything in that moment or would they leave everything till later? She did need to warn him that Ron knew of their liaison for his own safety and knowledge. Her stomach felt as though it were in knots, like a rope that had been twisted and turned so many times the mess was too intricate to be untangled.

Draco looked cautiously around him, his gray eyes darting to each corner of the corridor swiftly and sharply, making sure that no one was nearby to catch him out of bounds or follow him. He then ran nimbly up the stairs even as he felt his heart beat faster. Despite himself, he couldn't help but be nervous – he hadn't received a response from Hermione to the letter he had sent, and not knowing how she thought or felt had been –understandably – been keeping him on edge.

As he neared the door, or more appropriately the door to his fate, he heard slight shuffling. She was there. She hadn't forgotten, she hadn't bailed, and that thought was enough to give him the courage to push the door open.

Just the sight of him standing there somehow calmed her. Her stomach relaxed and those knots which had been choking her just moments ago suddenly began unraveling and smoothing. That forsaken nervousness that had been paralyzing her body was being quickly and swiftly replaced by excitement and a rush of love and longing. She could feel the air being charged with tension, though that may have been due to the sudden rush of heat she was feeling.

Her feet began moving by themselves as she saw Draco move forward. She felt her legs go a little weak as they met in the middle of the balcony. The wind was whipping his silky locks across his forehead. Thoughts were screaming, rolling through her mind like headlines on the front page of the newspaper. What should she say?

"How are you?" The thoughts stopped abruptly as Draco's question reached her ears. She blanked for a split second before hastily responding, "I'm alright. How about yourself?" She could tell from his posture that he was just as confused as to how to start this conversation.

"I've been satisfactory." His voice was cool and dripping with ease as though this situation was having no such impact on him whatsoever but the look in his eyes was enough of a hint that he was feeling the same way she was.

"I got your letter," she said lightly, though she couldn't stop the smile that lit up her face. "I didn't want to respond because of the danger involved."

"I assumed so," Draco responded, stepping closer to Hermione, though a hint of a smile also crossed his face as her ovious delight.

"Draco," Hermione said quickly, causing Draco to look at her in surprise, "I do have to tell you – Ron knows about us. I didn't mean to – it was an accident," she said, her words beginning to slur together, she was trying to get this off her chest as fast as possible.

"Hermione. Stop. Just stop. Stop right there." Hermione looked up, shocked at the strict and forceful tone in Draco's voice. His eyes softened when he saw the shocked look on her face.

"Hermione, I couldn't care less about what mistakes you made. I couldn't care less if Weasel knows about us. If you're worried about my life, I'll become an Auror for the Order, not a spy," he said passionately. His gray eyes bore into Hermione's; she felt herself drowning in the intensity practically radiating from their depth. "Hermione, I don't care about any of the logistics right now. All I care about is knowing if you're with me. Other than that I don't care. This night is about us, about our future together…not about anyone else. Right now I just….I just want to hold you. "

"The issues won't vanish just because if I'm here," she said softly, still not breaking eye contact with him. His statement that he wanted to hold her had sent a shiver down her spine.

"I know," he said simply. "I know. But if I have you with me, I can overcome them."

"I think you overestimate my power," said Hermione, a small laugh escaping her mouth. Draco's lips turned upward, his eyes softening. He felt the same familiar jolt of electricity flit through his body as he saw her eyes fill with mirth albeit momentarily.

"No," he said softly, reaching out and placing his arms around her lower back, slowly pulling her closer to him, "I think you underestimate your power and strength."

Hermione felt herself melt into his touch, like a slab of butter placed under the wrath of the warm summer sun. She smiled shyly at his words, placing her hands against his chest, reveling in the touch of his body underneath her fingers.

"Well what does my being here tell you?" she asked, smirking up at him, suddenly feeling in a playful mood.

"Well Miss Granger," Draco responded saucily, an equally evil grin crossing his face as he clasped his hands behind her back and holding her even closer, "Your being here gives me the impression that I must be important."

Hermione laughed joyfully at the mischievous look on his face unaware of the almost listless and wistful expression on Draco's face. His smile dropped a little as he watched her face.

"I love you Hermione," he said suddenly.

Hermione looked up, the mirth quickly wiping off her face as well when she saw the more serious look on his face. She could almost feel the fun and lightheartedness being swept away by the win, ushering in a period of seriousness.

"I love you too Draco."

At her words, the most beautiful and genuine smile she had seen broke across Draco's face, such that she was momentarily stunned. She felt her breathe catch in her throat just as it did all the previous time when he held her head in his palm while coming closer.

"You have no idea how long I've waited to do this," he murmured against her cheek.

"You have no idea how long I've waited for you to do this," she breathed throatily, the feeling of his mouth on her cheek driving her insane with desire.

"And just how long was this?" he murmured again, this time his lips kissing her neck. Hermione gasped in shock, her body thrusting forward to crush into his, this time causing Draco to slightly groan. "Tell me," he whispered smirking evilly against her quivering throat.

Hermione groaned and somehow with a strength she didn't know she had, she grasped his neck with her hand and slid her lips over his. This kiss unlike the last one they had shared wasn't wanton or forbidding, enthralling or exhilarating. It was full of comfort, need, desire, and longing. It was the unsaid seal on their decision. Their decision to stand by each other, their decision that they were now together, their fates and lives now intertwined. It was a kiss of understanding, the acknowledgement of the pain that the other had gone through and the desperation to make the other realize that other's devotion and loyalty.

Breathing heavily, she broke the kiss and leaned back, smiling softly at him.

"I love you," she whispered again, this time leaning forward to kiss his deeply yet lightly on his lips.

Draco kissed the top of her head tenderly as she leaned forward and rested her forehead on his chest. At the back of her mind, the War and the danger their lives were now in lay delicately. But they had each other, and like he had said…..that was all they he crossed his arms over her back, she smiled and closed her eyes.

Above them as the dark clouds shifted slightly, the moon slowly crept out from underneath the oppressive blanket, illuminating the black marble castle in a sea of pristine white light.

* * *

_A/N: And that's the end of it! I would like to thank __each__ and __every one__ of my reviewers. Without all of you, this story would not have been finished. Thanks for all your continued support and encouragement throughout the duration of this story._

_Please tell me any thoughts in a review; I want to hear good, bad, wonderful and awful. If you haven't commented before – please, if you could, do it now. I'd love to hear what you think of it._

_If time permits, I do plan on writing another story, though it may revolve around a Lily/James pairing, and not Hermione/Draco. But mostly likely it would be one of those two._

_Before I say goodbye, I would like to wish all of you a belated Happy New Year's and a wonderful 2010! Until the next story, take care!_

THE END

Started: June 27, 2009

Finished: December 31, 2009


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